On Loan
by foodforever
Summary: Kate Lee, telepath, telekinetic, and aspiring couch potato, is an agent on loan to SHIELD. Her plan to finish her missions as painlessly and in as chill as manner as she can manage is shot to dust once the aliens start coming - starting right with the arrival of a certain God of Mischief.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This isn't going to be End-Of-Thor-2 compliant, and it's definitely not going to be possible-Thor-3 compliant. It takes place after the Avengers, and follows the general cliche of Thor bringing Loki back to Earth. Or Midgard. Whichever floats your helicarrier.**

**I got the idea of a babysitter for Loki from the incomparable ****Ironbell****'s fic, '****Seven Years of Winter****'. It's a different spin on it, and I hope that it's different enough to, while admittedly not being entirely original, not be a complete and disgusting rip-off. Don't plagiarise, guys. It's bad.**

**I'll continue with this if I get good feedback on it; I haven't written any fanfic before, so, please be kind(?).**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC.**

* * *

Sometimes, I get the feeling that Nat does not like me. She probably thinks that I'm careless or unobservant enough to not notice the waves of disapproval emanating from every inch of her ridiculously cat-suited body, but I haven't gotten to where I am now by being an idiot. It's surprising that she hasn't realised _that_.

Granted, where I am now _exactly_ is a little sketchy. Neither of us know, and she's gone off on some recon spy contingency plan for escape while I'm trying to map us a way out of this cargo hold on a moving ship somewhere in the South China Sea.

"There isn't any other way out of here besides that door that you got shut on us. We should almost be at the Paracel Islands. Whatever you're doing, Kate, get us out of here _now_."

I didn't bother replying. There's only so much energy that I can spare to come up with witty repartee when I'm busy bouncing from mind to mind, rifling through recent memories for anything that is a key out of this reinforced steel cell with a ticking bomb in it that the Russian-ballerina-gone-wrong has planted perfectly –

– and bam, boom, baby, gotcha.

Leaping to my feet, I took off for the door that I had unfortunately slid shut without realising that it was self-locking. There was someone headed right this way and if I was suggestive enough, he would be an extremely obliging young man. Skidding to a stop in front of the reinforced steel, I shut my eyes and concentrated on projecting worry and suspicion and sudden and acute concern for the state of the bubble-wrapped cargo of innocuous vehicle parts into the very weak and docile mind I had snared.

I couldn't hear his footsteps approach, but I was still in his head when he started keying in the access code. That's when I frantically to Nat to get the fuck out of the line of sight before the man entered and I shut his consciousness down, lowering him gently to the floor.

Nat had launched herself out the door as soon as the idiot man had cleared it, and I felt optimistic enough to begin humming in my head as I let myself out, shut the door, and headed to the rendezvous point at a more sedate pace. The explosion rocked the ship just as I reached the airlock for the dive point as I reached out and gently shooed any and all that I could away from this particular part of this obscenely large vessel.

Nat arrived about two minutes after the explosion, slightly breathless and bloody. She was already fitting the oxygen mask to her head, so I scrambled to do the same while punching in the access code for the airlock.

I hope to god that she got what she was sent here to get, because I hate swimming and will _not _do this again.

* * *

When Fury told me to stay behind after the debriefing, I knew that I was in trouble.

"Lee."

God. Only in this country can you get away with calling people by their last names. There are like a million Lees back home. Way to make me feel like a special individual.

"Word is that you're careless, casual, and downright unappreciative of the importance of sticking to the goddamn plan."

That's a little harsh. Thanks, Nat.

I settled for shrugging. "Word is the same thing about Stark, and you leave him alone."

Fury leaned back in his chair, and I watched the fluorescent lights bounce off his head. I wished, fleetingly, that I were strong enough to break through _his_ mind to see if he had ever looked any different with hair (he'd had hair at some point in his life, right?). "Stark is a genius. You are not."

Wow. These people _suck _at being comforting.

"Not to be a dick, or whatever, but I'm also the only telekinetic and telepath you've got. And I'm on _loan_."

And that's when he beamed. I couldn't repress the shudder that ripped through me at the sight. He should stop smiling. He shouldn't be allowed to. It's terrifying. "Actually", he said, snuggling deeper into his fancy-ass leather chair, "by this time tomorrow, you're going to have another friend to play with who can do exactly what you can, but more. He's on loan too, but it's arguable that he packs more of a punch than you do."

_So does this mean that I can go home? Wait. Who the – this time tomorrow? I know that Thor's coming back tomorrow, because Jane Foster has informed every person she meets of that fact, but unless he's managed to learn a little more apart from grunting and swinging his hammer – _" Fuck." I paled, paler than I thought I could. "Thor's bringing his madman not-brother back with him? He packs a punch, but the last I checked, wasn't New York the target of that punch? Why the fuck is that punch a good thing?"

"Well, he hasn't gotten his powers back, and his daddy issues haven't fully been resolved, but Thor's promised that he'll be behaving."

"That's quite a qualification, Director". I raised my eyebrows. "Why's he coming back at all? So, since he's going to be your resident mutant guru, does this mean that I can go home? Actually, he won't be a mutant guru, since he's practically useless without his powers. So, like, what's the point in him being here in the first place? Granted, you lot like to hire a whole fuckload of useless ponces; all you have to do is look at half of IT Maintenance -"

Fury's scowl rivalled that of a shar-pei's, except that the dogs were cuter. "The reasons for Loki's return are _none of your business_, Lee, and no, you can't go home. You're going to be here to keep an eye on him."

Hahahaha. Haha. Ha. No, wait. He's serious?

"He has an older brother the size of five of your average American truckers after thanksgiving dinner to keep an eye on him. If you want someone to check his brain for naughty thoughts, you've come to the wrong telepath. My telepathy, like Jedi mind tricks, only works on the weak-minded. The only other thing I can do is move stuff around a little faster than most people while not having to get up from my chair. Call the Phoenix Force back to earth or something. I'm not babysitting a bloodthirsty lunatic, and this is not what my government contracted me out to do." I folded my arms, glaring at his stupid shar-pei face. "Also, making the mutant play nanny is SO clichéd."

Fury stood up suddenly, his chair wheeling away to hit the wall behind him. I took a step back and resentfully tilted my head up to meet his eye. Maybe this is the part where I cross the line and he kills me and ships my body back to my family, who still think that I'm working at a law firm here (and proudly tell all the relatives who don't care enough to ask).

"The contract with your government has been renegotiated. They too, see the importance of keeping you here, where you can actually do something to help the world, instead of sitting on your whiny upper-class ass. You may not have any loyalty to _me_, but _do not_ disrespect the decision of your country to send you here. You are a soldier, Lee. Soldiers follow my orders, because _I _am your commanding officer. Is that clear?"

Maybe this is why he's called Nick Fury. You might as well call a spade a spade…

"Is that **clear**?"

I swallowed my pride and it went down like cod-liver oil. "Yes, Sir."

"You will be at the drop zone tomorrow with Dr. Foster and her team. Do **not** let on that your mission is to watch Loki, but I expect to know his movements at any and every given time. Is that also clear?"

I ground my teeth. "Yes, Sir."

"You will follow orders and not get in the way of anyone else following _their_ orders. Understood?"

This is getting old. "Yes, Sir."

"Good. Get your bedtime reading from Nancy. Dismissed."

"Yes, Sir."

I turned on my heel and tried to leave as huffily as I could whilst not being a complete child. Stopping by Fury's inhumanly placid secretary, I received a thumb drive with information that almost certainly detailed everything about Loki, down to his stretchy green Lycra underwear, before stomping down the hall on the long trek back to my quarters.

_Fantastic, Kate. Some god out there really must hate you._

* * *

**A/N: I know that Kate's awfully whiny at the moment, but things can only progress from here. Send me some love, please?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC.**

**Also, this is all unbeta'd, so read at your own risk. I'm looking for a beta, actually, so if you feel like taking pity on an over-worked and constantly hungry intern by stepping up to the plate, please PM me! **

* * *

Some agents get to go home after work, because, you know. They have homes.

When I first came here, four years ago, I wasn't supposed to be staying for long. Mutants were still coming out of the woodwork, and while SHIELD had access to a number of them to do their dirty work, they didn't have a psychic ready to rumble. I wasn't even old enough to drink in this country, and they had me running into drop zones and blowing shit up. I killed someone on my 19th birthday because he was about to put a bullet through my skull. I shoved his eyeballs back into his and crushed his windpipe under a desk. I don't remember what that mission was, but I'm sure that it was crucial to the preservation of some sort of world peace.

It always is. Even when the world is never at peace anyways.

But, I digress. Those are awfully bitter thoughts for someone who's expected to, by virtue of genetic mutation, serve the greater good.

My apartment in SHIELD consists of a little suite of rooms - kitchen, bathroom, minuscule living area, tinier bedroom. I got accommodation on the floor meant for temporary residents, and I just never moved out. Nat and the other agents are either a floor above me or living in their own apartments in this godforsakenly expensive city. It's a little lonely, being the only person living on this floor, but it suits me just fine that no one ever comes here. Dealing with people is _exhausting_.

I felt Nat's mind in range the moment the lift stopped at my floor. It doesn't matter that I can't access it, but I still know that it's _there_, like a smooshy black presence that I can't quite get ahold of, with her name stuck onto it like one of those white nametags at a kiddie party.

She looked grim as always, so I attempted a half-hearted wave. "Natasha. You want to come in and bake cookies?"

"No."

Maybe they don't teach social niceties in spy school.

I sighed. "Look, Nat. I'm sorry that I was curious about the cargo hold and didn't stick to the plan and got us stuck there for an hour. I'm really sorry that I jeopardized the mission, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't go all Mom on me now, because Fury already did that."

She inclined her head, and I felt like shaking her, just to see if I could feel her cold, icy heart rattling around in that metal cage she called a torso. "Noted. But I'm not here about that, actually. Did Fury give you Loki's file?"

I held up the thumb drive.

She seemed to hesitate a little. "When Loki was here, he was unbalanced. It's been two years since the battle of New York, and I'm not sure if Asgardian justice has managed to stabilise his mental state, but he'll be a handful, even without his magic. You're not the most offensively powerful mutant that we have on hand, but Fury thought that your telekinesis would be useful."

_She came here to tell me __that__? She really __does__ think I'm a new kind of idiot. _

I'd already figured that while Anna the Pyro and Carrie-Not-Poison-Ivy-But-Close could cause more destruction, my abilities would be better for everyone around if I ever had to contain Loki in a crowd. The point of SHIELD was to protect civilians, not roast everybody within a mile's radius of the target. Then again, it isn't often that Nat decides to give me advice of any kind, so I just smiled and thanked her for the heads up.

"Also, Thor and Loki will be staying in these quarters while they're here. You know that Clint and I are just upstairs, so buzz us immediately if anything happens."

… Yes? Is she getting to the point anytime soon?

Her expression then tightened, just a little bit. "I need you to follow orders, Kate. This isn't something where you can muck around for a little bit and then sprint to get everything right when it's crunch time. Loki is mad. Your life is worth nothing to him, even if you're not the average human. You need to be on guard, whether he's with you or not."

I _knew_ it. "Nat, I get that. I was _there_ during the battle of New York, remember? I wasn't in your little circle of avenging glory, but I saw the crazy fool when I was digging people out of the remains of their offices. I know that I can't invite him into my apartment to watch Mean Girls and have ice cream. I'll be careful, and I promise that I won't be a total flake."

She nodded crisply, acknowledging that this was as close as I got to swearing an oath upon the Holy Handbook of SHIELD Protocol (or whatever document she held most dear to her robotic heart). "Good."

Having nothing left to say, she swept by me in a blur of glamorous leather and perfect dye job.

Feeling somewhat disgruntled, I let myself into my apartment, tossing the thumb drive onto my kitchen counter. There would be time to look through my homework later. I flopped down onto my couch and with a flick of my fingers, the remote control for the television sailed into my palm as I expended the greater part of my concentration on opening a cupboard in the kitchen and summoning a bag of chips.

Being a mutant has its perks.

* * *

The next day, I found myself bleary-eyed and grouchy but definitely awake as I dropped into a chair around a conference table in one of the numerous conference rooms aboard the helicarrier. They'd built a new one after the whole New York debacle, but it wasn't any more welcoming than the first one had been.

Cradling my head in my hands and trying not to keel over from grogginess, I observed the rest of my companions. Nat and Clint were in a corner, having one of their silent ex-assassin conversations. Jane Foster had like three laptops set up and was, it seemed, working on all of them at once. I worried a little about her getting whiplash from looking back and forth so rapidly, but hey. She's a big girl. She can handle her own whiplash. Her assistant was lounging back in a chair with her feet up on another one, looking just as pissed off about how early she had to wake up for this as I was. I hadn't really gotten her name – Dani? Debbie? Meh. I'll find out later.

Stark wasn't here, obviously. One of the benefits of being Iron Man is that you are actually your own ride, so you don't have to hitch one at four-fucking-fifteen in the morning on the company vehicle. Captain America was off saving a cat from a tree or something. I didn't know where Banner was, but I was cool as long as he wasn't anywhere around me. I'd seen the footage of the Hulk in Harlem. It had not pleased me.

You know what else doesn't please me? Having to wake up at the crack of dawn to travel to fucking _Norway _to set up some machinery that will hopefully catch the Asgardian Aliens as their father launches them off their own damn planet like a baseball. That Odin dude is the Allfather or some shit, right? Doesn't being the king of gods mean that you can snap your fingers or twitch your nose and teleport your sons to New York? It's not like you don't know where it is. Your adopted spawn basically tried to decimate it two years back.

Foster's assistant was now snoring lightly. Good on you, D –

_Fuck!_

I didn't know where the explosion had hit, but it felt like it was still happening in my head as I staggered to my feet, clutching onto the heavy table (which had thankfully been bolted to the floor) for support as the helicarrier listed to its starboard side.

A shriek caught my attention, and I snapped my head up to realise several things at once.

Clint and Nat were sprinting out the door, no doubt hoping that whatever had hit us could be shot at. Foster's laptops were goners, but Foster herself was fine despite looking a bit battered from where they had flown past her upon the impact.

Foster's assistant, however, was on the floor and on the wrong side of the helicarrier, with dozens of swivel chairs all rolling towards her as she tried to pick herself up.

My body acted on instinct. Throwing a hand out, I tried to pull the chairs back, but only managed to arrest the movement of some. That was enough, though, and she managed to crawl up to grab hold of the table.

Thank god.

I shouted at the two women to stay put and bolted out of the room, using my telekinesis as a buffer between me and the floor and the walls to keep my balance as I ran towards where there was the most screaming and gunfire.

I really wish I hadn't.

I came to a skidding halt right outside of the doors to the runway deck, spotting Clint and Nat huddled behind the remains of a small speed bomber to my two o' clock. Not being under any form of cover, I was treated to the full glory of what hell on earth might look like.

The entire deck was engulfed in flames. The heat was so intense that everything, ironically, looked like it was underwater. Three distinct pillars of fire were barely discernable from the inferno, and as I approached cautiously, they moved forward as well, warping and solidifying to form humanoid giants with skin of baked clay and eyes like bloody suns. They stopped right in front of the wrecked bomber, one of them tossing it aside like so much trash, and waited for the two to get their bearings again before speaking. "Turn around, Midgardians. The Odinsons are none of your concern." To emphasise its point, perhaps, it reached out for Nat with a hand scored with veins of molten fire. My heart leapt into my throat.

"Yo, Sparky!" _I am an idiot beyond all idiots_. "_You_ have no business telling us whom to be concerned about. So like, fuck the fuck off!"

As a trio, they lost interest in Nat and Clint and moved towards me. _Fuck_. I need a plan.

"They call us demons, but you are coarser than all of us melded together. No matter. Your own realm of fire and brimstone will receive you today."

They beckoned to the fire in their wake, and it came, meandering to them. Meant for me.

Glancing around frantically, I found what I was looking for; fire extinguishers. I snagged as many as I could carry with the strength of my mind, and it was desperation that fuelled me when I threw the flimsy canisters at the fire giants and blew them apart with sheer force of will.

The mini explosion was enough to sweep them off the deck and hopefully into the ocean below. The next thirty seconds that followed were the most tense that I'd ever experienced, as all of us crouched, convinced that the fire freaks would come back and blast us all into oblivion.

We didn't wait long. Three streaks of fire and light whooshed back up past us, but they kept going upwards, eventually disappearing into the layers of atmosphere above us, like shooting stars in reverse.

I sank onto the deck with a pounding headache, barely registering the renewed flurry of activity around me as agents hustled to hose down the fires and assess the damage caused to the new helicarrier. _What the flying fuck was __that__? _Fire. Fire demons from the Nine Realms. I know this word. I know this world.

The last thing I saw before passing out was Nat's face, framed by a halo of flames.

* * *

**A/N: REVIEW; PLZ, **_**PLZ**_** REVIEW! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC. **

**Everything is un-beta'ed, so read at your own risk. (But please tell me if you spot any errors, grammatical or otherwise, and I will fix them ASAP). **

* * *

I came to with a gasp and a headache that had not abated during my unconsciousness. Someone placed a hand on my shoulder and I heard some noise that was surely meant to be comforting, but very little helps when you can feel your blood thundering in your ears and your brain pressing into your skull. I focused on taking deep breaths, trying to calm my mind down, soothing away the over-exertion until the pain subsided into a dull pressure. The person was still talking.

"… chill, chill, chill, chill - "

"I'm chill," I rasped. "Very chill."

Foster's assistant slowly removed her hand from my person before busying herself with looking for a glass of water. "Are you feeling ok? Nat said that you over-strained yourself, but that we wouldn't know how bad the stress was until you woke up. How shitty do you feel?"

"Pretty shitty." I accepted the glass from her and drank greedily, slopping water down my front in my haste to get hydrated. I could still taste the smoke in my throat and feel the burn from the waves of intense heat on the deck.

Foster's assistant held her hand out for the glass and refilled it. "Aspirin's on the table to your right. I'm Darcy, by the way. Darcy Lewis." She caught my eyes as she handed me the glass again. "Thanks, for back there. Death by swivel chair would have been a sucky way to go."

I managed to crack a smile. "No big, Darcy." Popping the Aspirin, I drained the glass and put it aside before craning my neck to look out the window. "How long have I been out for?"

"About three hours. This helicarrier thing apparently can achieve warp speed. We're in Norway already, in the middle of some forest. The damage done by the fire freaks was mostly superficial, so while we won't be able to carry any helicopters for a while, the rest of this thing works just fine. Jane and the others left about an hour ago to set all the science thingies up to create the portal for Thor and the maniac to come through."

Ah.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Aren't you her assistant? Why aren't you out there with her?"

She shrugged, shoving her glasses back into place as they slid down her nose. "I'm not really a science-science dude. Jane keeps me around mainly for nostalgia, friendship, and data-entry. I'm not really trusted around expensive equipment, and anyways," – here she flashed a very toothy grin – "I volunteered to stay with you."

I laughed. "O, the warm and fuzzy feelings. So, when will we know when the aliens have made contact?"

The end of my question was drowned out by a very obnoxious message alert alarm, prompting Darcy to excitedly pounce upon her mobile phone. "Right now, actually! We're supposed to be waiting in the conference room for them."

Joy. Normally, I'd pretend to be woozier than I really was to get out of mind-numbingly boring meetings, but this meeting promised to be pretty interesting. I also wanted to know why the fire demons were so insistent on keeping the Asgardians away from us.

Curiosity doesn't kill _this_ Kat(e).

Rolling out of bed, I lumbered towards the nearest bathroom. Alien men are still men, and I was NOT meeting them looking like I got knocked out by thinking too hard.

* * *

They put us in a different conference room this time, a slightly bigger one (probably to hold Thor).

I was, very unglamorously, using my telekinesis to prop my chair back as far as it could go, with my feet on the table (trying to achieve a fully horizontal position), when I heard a stampede of people barrelling towards the room.

Darcy was hastily ripping her earphones from her ears when I ceased floundering in shock and lowered myself back into my seat properly.

Thankfully for my dignity, Nat was the only one who saw the frantic flailing (which was nothing she hadn't seen before), so she just sighed and took the seat beside mine.

Clint trooped in next, and acknowledged me with a stoic nod. He wasn't much of a talker – none of us were – but Nat was the only one I'd seen him hold an actual conversation with. The next in were Foster and Thor, who were practically a single entity. I was so distracted by the uncomfortable PDA that I almost missed the person who sidled in behind them.

'Almost' being the operative word.

Comparing him with the pictures from his file, he looked gaunter than he did then. His cheekbones, which had been prominent, were now unnaturally sharp. While his eyes were alert as ever, they seemed over-large for his haggard face. Still, he carried himself with the bearing of the king he wanted to be. He also didn't look particularly pleased to be here, but you could feel the cogs in his crazy brain working as he plotted any mischief that could be achieved within the confines of the most boring conference room on the planet.

Loki, God of Chaos, Mischief, and General Assholery spared none of us paltry mortals a second glance as he settled himself on a chair apart from the rest of the room's occupants. You'd have thought it was a throne, the way he deigned to lower his royal ass onto the faux-leather upholstery.

I took his deliberate ignorance of everybody else as an opportunity to study him without feeling too awkward. His hair was much shorter, and he wasn't in the ridiculous gold-and-green costume regalia that he'd sported during the whole World Domination venture. That being said, he managed to make his simple black tunic and breeches look more expensive than all of the contents of my mother's walk-in wardrobe put together (that's honestly saying quite a bit). He'd turned his attention to a little stone in his palm, rolling it around and throwing it up into the air.

I was distracted from my scrutiny of Mr Maybe Burberry Model by Stark and Hill's entrance. Stark hadn't gotten any less obnoxious since the last time I'd met him; he was still loud and brash and _good god_ was he checking out Darcy's boobs? I mean, they're nice, but didn't he have a _girlfriend_? Actually, I don't think that he remembers me at all. We were introduced briefly at some SHIELD function, and he was far more interested in his scotch than he was in me.

Hill managed to cut him off just as he was about to make an inappropriate comment about Point Break (… Thor, who was breaking at the waist to nuzzle his nose into Foster's neck) sticking his pointy finger somewhere. You didn't even have to be a telepath to see that on the tip of his tongue. "Now that we're all together, I'd like to welcome Thor and Loki back to Earth." There was a brief silence following her address. No one missed how her tone cooled from cordial to frigid at Loki's name. For obvious reasons, SHIELD did not appreciate the return of an immortal war criminal to the world that he tried to take over. It didn't matter what Fury's reasons for allowing him on our soil were. It felt disrespectful to bring him back to the city that he had almost destroyed. I snuck a look at him again; he didn't even seem _bothered_ by the outright hostility. He was still engrossed in the little game of throw-and-catch-a-pebble-that-used-to-belong-to-the-Norwegian-forest-floor. What a baby.

Hill cleared her throat. "Agent Lee, I'm delighted that you're up and running." _Up and running_. Seriously.

"The delight is all mine, Ma'am."

She carried on with no indication that she had ever heard me.

"En route to the drop zone, we were attacked by fire demons – I believe that the correct term is Eldjötnar – from a realm called Múspelheimr, which lies on another branch of the World Tree. They attempted to dissuade us from making contact with Thor and Loki, with good reason. Asgard has received intelligence to the effect that Múspelheimr is attempting to launch a takeover of parts of Earth – or Midgard, as they call us. Odin has managed to send his sons here to aid us against the upcoming invasion. Thor will, of course, be lending his hammer to our cause -"

Darcy couldn't suppress a snigger at Hill's choice of words. I couldn't quite manage to keep a straight face, either. Thor may have come here to help us beat back land-grubbing aliens, but we all knew that the only person who'd actually benefit from his hammer was Foster.

"- And Loki will aid Dr. Foster in her research on these demons and the wormholes that they are using to access our planet. He has been sent here to make reparations for his earlier… behaviour. He is to be treated with professional respect. Odin has assured us that the episode with the sceptre had been brought upon by prolonged exposure to some sort of negative influence, and that Loki has since been cured of his temporary madness." Hill looked like she had swallowed something particularly bitter. No doubt she was envisioning herself bitchslapping Loki in the face at the beginning of an excruciating torture session intended to punish him for the deaths of SHIELD agents. Yeah, well. She'd probably have to get in line.

I chanced a glance around the table again. Thor and Jane were, quite obviously, in their own nauseating little bubble of couple-ness. Loki was probably quite disgusted at Thor's behaviour as well, judging by the fact that he had just flung his pebble at him.

With a flick of my fingers, I caught the tiny thing in mid-flight, bouncing it back to hit Loki square between the eyes. Not for the first time, I felt rather smug about my telekinetic capabilities.

That was before I locked gazes with Loki and felt myself shrink a little in my seat. The guy was _furious_.

Shaking with rage, he leaned forward in his seat. "You _filthy _mortal! How _dare_ you touch a prince of Asgard!"

Powers or no powers, he looked as if he was going to leap across the table and kill me. In the stress of the moment, I, predictably, ran my mouth. "No hands, bro." I raised my palms to the ceiling and smirked, despite being convinced that I was living out my last moments. If I had to go, I wanted to go out snarking. I could see that Stark was staring at me out of the corner of my eye, his expression a study of contemplation mixed with a healthy dose of incredulity.

"Loki. Calm down." Thor stood, fixing his brother with a firm glare, much like the sort you use on misbehaving puppies. "You have not been injured. Leave the lady be."

Pursing his lips, Loki backed down, but kept his gaze on me. I looked away first, fiddling with the end of my braid. Stark broke the awkward silence that descended.

"Cool parlour trick, Katy-Kins."

"Don't call me that." I paused. "You know my name?"

"We met at that Christmas SHIELD party last year. You thought I was so much of a douche that I wouldn't remember you?"

Everybody raised their eyebrows at that. _Err, yes, Stark_.

He pouted. "Guys!"

Hill cut in before he could start whining by slamming a plastic box of labelled thumb drives onto the table. "_These _are your schedules for the foreseeable future. Take the ones with your names on them and _go away_. Stark, take Dr Banner's with you, and _no swapping_."

Loki was the last one out of the room, so, as per orders, I fiddled around with my stuff, waiting for him to get up so that I could follow him out and then follow him around.

I did expect him to get back at me for the pebble thing, and I was not disappointed. As soon as the last person was a good way down the corridor outside, Loki was out of his seat and was leaning over mine, hands clenched tight over the armrests. I leaned back, trying not to look cowed and probably failing miserably.

"You may be versed in some manner of petty sorcery," he hissed, "but you will do well to remember that you are only mortal. Even without access to my magic, I can snap you in half like a twig in a tornado."

He meant it. I didn't have to read his mind to see that. Thor or no Thor, reparations be damned. Loki was just as angry and frustrated as he had been when he tried to take over the world, and I could see the naked fury in his wide green eyes.

I swallowed, and with as much bravado as I could muster, I cocked my head to one side. "You may be immortal, but I know a dude who's pretty good at smashing shit. And the thing about being immortal is that you can't escape punishment by merely dying."

Loki bared his teeth, and I was reminded, forcefully, of a wild animal caught in a trap. He said nothing more, but shoved my chair into the others behind me and stormed from the room. Without him to inspire any requirement of a brave front, I felt fear, pure and unadulterated, rushing through my veins. What was Thor thinking, to bring him back here?

What were _we_ thinking, to allow it?


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC.**

**Everything is unbeta'ed, so read at your own risk!**

* * *

You'd think that the God of Mischief would be a more exciting person to follow around.

I'd been minding him for the past nine days, and he was blander than the American versions of Chinese food. I admit, I was honest-to-god frightened of him for the first three days after that scene in the conference room. However, his temper subsided into dormancy under a mask of polite calmness, and so my jumpy anxiety settled into a sort of wary watchfulness.

Fury had installed a wealth of super-secret-spy-surveillance-stuff in Loki's room, and what that meant was that I had a _lot_ of information fed into my mobile phone, _all_ the time. It basically made me feel like a Class A stalker, but hey. Work is work.

So when Loki so much as sat up in bed, the alarm on my phone would go off to wake me up so that I would be able to receive Thor and Loki at their doors in the mornings. Loki's room was directly opposite mine, while Thor's was a little further down the hall (but still not far away enough to keep the fact that Foster is a screamer a secret). I guess Thor assumed that I was their SHIELD liaison-handler person, which was much more diplomatic than the truth. The fact that I was specifically assigned to watch Loki like a summer blockbuster would be offensive to both Thor and Odin – Thor, because anyone suspecting his little brother of pulling shit would be insulting their brotherly bond, and Odin, because it meant that we didn't trust whatever mojo he pulled to keep Loki in line.

It's true. We didn't.

Loki, on the other hand, probably knew that I was his personal babysitter. He looked a lot smarter than his brother.

That was probably why he set up a very boring routine on his first day on Earth (wake up, lab, lab, lab, lab, back to room, one hour of TV, sleep) and stuck to it like clockwork, refusing to speak to anyone unless absolutely necessary. Even then, it was usually to Foster, Banner, or Stark, in a carefully neutral tone, with regard to some aspect of the science shit that they were messing around with.

From what I gathered, they were trying to work out patterns in energy spikes across the globe, breaking them down by type, level, and area. They hypothesised that whatever was sending them across wasn't quite strong enough to function properly, and so they had to rely on times like sunrise (like when the helicarrier was attacked) or sunset, where there was a sudden burst of solar energy to draw upon, to send themselves across the void and into this world. Even so, such manifestations only lasted a couple of minutes before they were pulled back into their own realm.

The two brothers were not often separated. Loki was pretty much confined to the lab, and since Foster practically lived in the lab, Thor was always in the lab.

Since the God of Thunder wasn't exactly Benjamin Franklin, he spent most of his time at a little area separate from the science-dudes that SHIELD had set up for the soldiers to congregate and discuss war stuff. He'd pace up and down, mapping fire demon sightings and energy spikes that _could_ signal fire demon activity on a map spread out on the surface of a small conference table and muttering to himself about battle strategies. He also very patiently corrected me every time I referred to our adversaries as 'fire demons' or 'fire freaks' or other variations upon the same theme, like so:

"Eldjötnar."

"Fire-fries."

"Eldjötnar."

"Fiery-fire things."

"Eldjötnar."

"Smaug."

"Bless you, Lady Katharine."

And so I spent nine days flopping around in one of SHIELD's super fancy labs, listening to Stark grumble about how _his _labs were prettier and exchanging awkward comments in pseudo-Shakespearean dialogue with Thor and gossiping inappropriately with Darcy. Everybody took their meals in the lab, clustered around Thor's map table (the map was unceremoniously rolled up and tossed into a corner for the duration of each mealtime). Loki would wedge himself between his brother and Banner, who, ironically, was the politest in a roomful of people determined to be polite to him. At about midnight, Loki would stop work and just walk out of the lab, usually prompting Thor to tear himself away from whatever he was doing and throw himself down the hall after his brother. I'd say goodnight to everyone and troop after the Asgardians, seeing them to their doors before closing my own behind me, after ensuring that Loki was safely in his room.

After taking a very relaxing shower, I'd slip into my very frumpy but supremely comfortable batik pyjamas and make use of the blissful lull in my life to video-call my parents, who would have just finished lunch. Being able to talk to them every day was a luxury that I had missed. My family is very close knit, and I'd cried every single day for the first solid month I'd spent apart from them.

But, I had made the choice to put my duty to my nation above my desire to remain with my loved ones, maintain relationships, and pursue higher education. It had seemed like a very noble decision at the time. Doubtless, it's still noble on hindsight, but I can't help but feel like slapping myself for being an idiot of a nineteen-year-old chasing after glory.

The glamour of being an agent faded the second I had to hurt someone in the course of a mission. My goal from then on was to survive until I could get sent home. They say no guts, no glory, but there is nothing glorious about seeing a woman trying to hold her own intestines in and getting other people's blood in your eyes. It doesn't matter that they were trying to kill you first. I forced down so much vomit on my first few missions that I was convinced that my oesophagus was half eaten away by my stomach acid.

So, yeah. Not having to kill anyone was great. For a little while, I got to pretend that I was a stalker with a victim who made life super easy for me, which was great, because I _love _easy.

Too bad easy never lasts for long.

* * *

At about 4:20pm on the tenth day, Stark had some sort of genius-seizure, which involved a tribal war-whoop, a call for scotch, and _unbearable_ smugness.

"They're going to appear around the pacific ring of fire," he explained, bringing the world map up on one of the super hi-tech screens littered around the lab and highlighting a series of volcanoes. "They've been trying to use wells of magma to anchor their projections, but so far, they haven't found a source that's both large and active enough to hold a portal. They've been popping up and around at some of the smaller volcanoes, but I think that's because they're still testing whatever it is they're using to send themselves through. The type of anchor they'll need will be difficult to control because large and active volcanoes are, you know, health hazards."

He paused and gestured at a couple of areas on the map, and pulled up the profiles of several hotspots. "They'll probably use any or all of these three spots as their portal anchor. We just need to figure out how to close it down permanently before they get a grip."

Loki shrugged. "The Eljötnar are a crude race. They may have crossed over once, twice, maybe thrice, but it is unlikely that they will ever pose any sort of threat to your people."

_Excuse me?_

I must have said that far louder than I'd intended, because Darcy, who'd been sitting beside me covertly scrolling through Tumblr, winced and angled herself away.

"They kind of fried the deck of our helicarrier, and Nat was like _this close_ to getting barbequed. _No threat_ my _ass_!"

Sneering, Loki leaned back in his seat. "But, no one was injured, weren't they?"

Because the universe _loves_ proving _anybody_ wrong, whether he's from this world or the next, all the alarms started wailing right at that moment.

All the combat personnel in the room began running for the exit (with the exception of Banner, who, awkwardly, didn't know quite what to do with himself for a second and managed to turn himself in a complete circle before fiddling with some switches that prompted blast shutters to slide across all the glass windows). Thor was last, having taken care to shove Foster under a table and order her to stay there.

I didn't even realise that Loki had disappeared until I got to where the breach was and saw that the lobby of SHIELD was blown wide open and flaming demons were joyfully torching everything they could see. I knew that he'd left the lab with us, but he wasn't anywhere in sight now.

I ducked under a fireball and inched closer to Nat. "Nat! I lost Loki!"

"Never mind him now! Deal with _this_!" She rolled behind a row of potted plants, slipping a magazine into one of her pistols.

My brain was working in overdrive as I threw myself behind a wall just as the space where I had been exploded into flames. It's sunset, so it's very doubtful that they're actually launching a full attack, given that they haven't made a serious effort to charge deeper into the building. They're going to be disappearing in a few minutes anyways. They have problems accessing worlds. We happen to be harbouring an accomplished world-walking_ sneak_ who is, currently, unsecured.

_Fuck! _

I turned tail and ran back through the way we'd come, not bothering to mind jump. Looking for hosts would only slow me down. If I were Loki and wanted to get the fuck out of here without magic in a very short period of time, where would I go?

I made it to the hangar at an all-out sprint, and I couldn't even collapse in relief once I'd gotten there.

Loki was already engaged in a skirmish with two fire demons, but he was a Loki that I'd never seen before.

He was blue. He still looked exactly the same, but he was _blue_.

There wasn't really time to ponder over his new skin, though, because one of the fire demons had grabbed his arm and he was screaming bloody murder. The other demon had burned a hole in the wall and they looked like they were just about ready to abscond with their prize pig in tow.

"Oi!" I flung a chair at the fire demon holding Loki. I did accidentally clip Loki in the head, and he stumbled away looking slightly dazed, but the point was that I managed to get the fire demon to let him go.

That's when I charged at them, hoping that Loki had enough sense to scramble the fuck out of the way. I didn't quite manage to dodge another burst of flames entirely, but the pain in my forearm came as if from a great distance away. When I was close enough to the two fire demons, I grabbed a SHIELD jeep idling nearby and threw it at them. I managed to knock one of them into a wall, where he slumped to the ground. The other one avoided the flying car and ignored me altogether in favour of going after Loki.

I was running purely on adrenaline right now, and I reckon that that was the only reason why I could focus enough to snatch the fire demon barrelling straight at the slightly disoriented blue jackass off the ground and hurl him out the hole which he had made.

That's when there was a bright flash from the corner of my eye, and I watched as the incapacitated fire demon convulsed and shot through the ceiling of the hangar, leaving a bed of twisted metal in his wake.

_They're gone. _

All I managed to do before the world went black was to raise my head to find Loki's face just inches away from mine, his expression as inscrutable as always, but with eyes as red as fresh blood.

* * *

**A/N: I know that the whole Loki/OC interaction thing is going a little slowly, but I want it to be somewhat believable. There'll be more Lokate bonding in the next chapter, I promise!**

**Also, sunset is at 4:30pm in this chapter because it's around the start of December, as will be made clear in the next chapter. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC. **

**All of this is unbeta'ed, so read at your own risk!**

* * *

Consciousness came by inches, this time. When I finally managed to crack my eyelids open, I was alone in SHIELD's medical bay, icky, and the inside of my mouth tasted _foul_. I'd noticed that someone had put a bandage on the burn on my arm, but clearly no one had bothered to clean the rest of me up. A quick glance at the bedside clock told me that it was already near midnight.

A nurse (her name tag proclaimed that she was Sally) bustled into my room as I wrestled myself into a sitting position. After doing a great deal of poking and prodding, she reluctantly allowed me to return to my own room to sleep the rest of the night away. I did want to know who'd brought me to the medical bay, because the last person I was with was Loki, and I doubted that he'd care enough to get me medical attention. The nurse only shrugged and said that she didn't know; she'd just started her shift, and it's not like anyone tells _her _anything _anyways_.

Meh. I'd have to ask Nat, then.

With a little bit of pouting and some well-played whining, I managed to get Sally the Night Nurse to prescribe me painkillers (SCORE!) along with some burn salve before I dragged myself out of the medical bay and to my quarters. But, apparently, the day was not all out of surprises.

I did not expect to find Loki leaning on my door.

I halted a little distance away, suddenly very conscious of my terrible sleep-breath and icky grossness. "Err, hi?"

He was back to his usual appearance, but, unusually for him, he looked a little uncertain. "May I come in, Agent Lee? I would like to speak with you, but I'm certain that my room is under surveillance."

_Eh, well. You've got that right. Wait; my room? I'm not allowed to let him in, right? But he said that we'd just be talking, and not eating ice cream or watching a chick flick or braiding each others' hair. Fury would still be_ furious_, though. So, err, what? _

It must have been clear from my face that I was having an internal conversation with myself, because Loki quirked an eyebrow upwards. "I give you my word that I will not harm you, or misbehave in any manner."

He's the God of Lies and this is not exactly an Unbreakable Vow, but I'll take it.

"Um, sure. Can I just wash up, first? You can wait out here, or in your room, and I'll open my door when I'm done and you can come over. I'm sure you can hear the door opening, even from your room, right?"

His expression evolved from mildly amused to full-blown smirk-tastic. I hadn't even known that he was capable of expressing such a range of emotions. "Do you not trust me to be unsupervised within your residence, Agent Lee?"

"Yeah, pretty much." I gestured to him to move so that I could unlock my door and slide inside. "See you in twenty minutes."

He was still smirking when I slammed the door in his face.

I bolted into the bathroom and tried to brush my teeth and shuck my SHIELD regulation jumpsuit simultaneously. It looks really good on women with curves, but I'm short and skinny and boob-less. Let's just say that there's substantially less fan-art of me than of Nat floating around on the Internet.

Whatever.

The God of Chaos is waiting out in the corridor for me to get clean so that he can speak with me in private. I don't really need affirmation from the Internet.

* * *

When I finally opened my front door, I was startled to find myself nose-to-nose with Loki, who just smiled at me politely. "May I come in?"

_That's actually a _very_ nice smile. _

"Please do." I stepped aside and let him in, furtively closing the door behind him. Hopefully no one finds out about this because if he tells me that I'm not supposed to say anything about his visit, I don't know how I'm going to explain away allowing Loki into my apartment while I'm in a bathrobe. Unsure of the social protocol involved in having an Asgardian prince over at one in morning, I instinctively headed to the kitchen. _When in doubt, feed it_. "Err, do you want anything to drink? Wine? Water? Actually, I just have water, so like. Yeah. I think you're the wrong god for turning water into wine. I do have teabags, though; do you want tea? Err, I've got some pineapple tarts, too, if you eat them."

"Tea would be lovely." He made to sit at the barstools at the kitchen island, but I waved him towards the vicinity of the couch. If we were going to be talking, I wanted to do it while putting my feet up. It had been a long day.

I eyed him from my kitchen as I filled two mugs with hot water from a water dispenser and plonked a bag of green tea leaves into both. He made himself at home on my couch, but it was clear that he didn't expect to be sucked so deeply into it. He looked pretty taken aback by the depth of the cushions. I fought the urge to snigger. I'd dumped the old couch that SHIELD had provided me with after about two weeks of living here. I'm the sort of girl who likes to be comfortable, and since I tend to spend a lot of my free time (which, admittedly, is not much) in my living room with food and television, my ass must be embraced lovingly by memory foam and liveable leather.

I set the mugs down on the coffee table in front of the couch, holding my hand out behind me to receive two little snack plates and a tin of my stash of pineapple tarts. No one else in this building will touch them, because they've got like 164 calories per tiny tart, but they're so good that they literally have made me cry.

Loki claimed a mug of tea with thanks, but looked askance at the tarts. Well, more for me, then. Lord knows I need the sugar.

Piling five tarts onto my snack plate, I settled into the squashy armchair by the couch. "So, what is up? What's the 411?"

He looked _really _confused. Maybe it's a bit early in his visit to be quoting from Mean Girls.

I decided to clarify. "You wanted to talk?"

His expression cleared, and he took a tentative sip from his mug. "You are an exceedingly strange and colloquial person, Agent Lee. Yes, I did."

I shoved a pineapple tart into my face, waiting expectantly for him to go on.

"Why did you help me?"

_Really? _Of all the things to ask, he had to ask _that_?

"It was my job," I told him carefully. "I can't just let you get kidnapped by a duo of fire demons. I mean, I didn't really want them to get any information that you might have about world-travelling, either, but it would suck if you got spirited away on my watch. They also look like nasty little bitches, so I wouldn't envy any guest of theirs." A question as to why he had been blue hovered on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it. I can't just ask people why they're _blue_, right?

"An easier way to prevent me from giving any information would have been to kill me. You could have done it, since my magic is bound. Yet, you exerted yourself to the point of exhaustion to keep me alive. I could have then killed you and been on my merry way."

I paused in the act of bringing another tart to my mouth. "I actually hadn't considered that." Then I shrugged. "I guess I didn't think that you'd do that to me."

"I've killed hundreds of mortals without _blinking_ in the course of my lifetime. Why aren't you more afraid of me?" He leaned forward towards me, the living room lights throwing strange shadows upon his face.

The conversation suddenly felt too serious for me to both be a participant in it _and_ eat at the same time. I put the plate down, wiping my fingers on a napkin before meeting his eyes. Since he'd probably be able to tell if I was lying, I figured that honesty was the best policy.

"I _was _afraid of you. But I can't let fear get in the way of me doing my job. I don't trust you, and I do not appreciate your callous disregard for human life. However, as much as aspects of your personality make my skin crawl, I cannot allow harm to come to you."

He sat back, appraising me. "I make your skin crawl?"

I rolled my eyes. Of all the things to latch on to. "I just called you a psychopath, and you're asking if you creep me out?"

"You have a unique sense of bravery, Agent Lee." He seemed to be wrestling with the impulse to say something. I judged that the heavy moment had passed and took the opportunity to eat another pineapple tart and drink some tea.

He finally spat it out. "I may have misjudged you."

My eyebrows rose. Say _what_?

"I thought you were merely a smug Migardian, in love with your power and the power it brings you. I had not realised that your sense of honour would genuinely extend to helping one whom you would be loath to help. I thank you, Agent Lee."

I had _no idea _of where this was coming from, but, ok? "No problem…?"

He smirked again, reaching for a tart on my plate. "However, I do have to pay you back for the pebble you hit me with."

I batted his hand away and tossed the entire tin at his lap with a gesture of my hand. "Yeah, good luck trying. And take your own tarts. I _offered _you some. Do not just pluck them off my plate."

He scowled at me as he unscrewed the lid. "Is it not all the same?"

"No. What's on my plate is _mine_."

This exchange was followed by like a minute of awkward munching. Having slept for six hours, I was wide awake and fully aware of how god-awfully weird this entire situation was. Loki was sitting in my living room, eating pineapple tarts and drinking tea. I'm pretty sure I promised Nat that this wouldn't happen.

He broke the silence first. "If you would allow it, I could teach you how to augment the use of your telekinesis."

Woah! "Seriously?" I still didn't trust him further than I could throw him, but this was a pretty good opportunity if it was legitimate. I hadn't had _anyone _to help me deal with my powers, and much of what I could do had been picked up over the years from very cautious trial-and-error. It's not like there is an army of psychics to tutor me in telekinesis.

He nodded. "Your abilities and my magic are, I hypothesise, much the same. I have a more varied arsenal of tricks up my sleeve, but mind-moving is something that is instinctual to me. Since the others can carry on work on the device to shut down the Eljötnar invasion without me, I believe that I can spare some time to help train you."

_Yes!_ Genuinely excited, I threw the tin of pineapple tarts at him again. "Thank you! Thank you _so _much! Here, have some more."

He seemed rather bewildered at my insistence on feeding him. It's a culture thing. Mine is big on food. "We have nothing like this on Asgard," he mused, nibbling into a corner of the pastry. "Perhaps it is for the best. Thor adores sweets, and would probably eat us out of house and home."

I snickered. Watching Thor eat was like watching a heavy-duty food processor at work. I couldn't wait for Rogers to get back from his overseas stint crushing bad guys just so I could see who could scarf down more food. He said he'd be home for Christmas (what a boy scout), which would be in about a week and a half's time. I guess I wouldn't have to wait that long.

"By the way, who brought me to the medical bay?"

"I did."

I spluttered into my tea. _What? _I guess I was wrong after all. "You?"

He looked affronted. "I couldn't just leave you there after you'd beaten back the Eldjötnar. That would have been unbearably rude."

_Rude_. He called it _rude_.

I let out an incredulous laugh. "Well, thanks. We all know how gentlemanly _you_ are."

He just smirked again. It was really starting to grow on me, that smirk.

We finished eating in a sort of companionable peace. When he bade me goodnight and left, I admit that I bounced around a little after I'd shut the door. Who knew that Loki could be charming and polite?

Nat's warning, however, rose unbidden in my mind. _You need to be on guard_.

I huffed as I cleared the plates and mugs away. I could be on guard. Just because the guy was nice to me for half an hour, it didn't mean that we were suddenly best buddies.

But, who would've guessed that a non-homicidal Loki would be so _nice _to hang out with?

I was snuggled up in bed when I realised that I hadn't asked Loki about the whole blue thing. Deciding that I would just talk to Thor about it, I rolled over and punched my pillow into a more comfortable shape. Something told me that Loki would _not _appreciate me (or anyone) bringing that up.

* * *

**A/N: Wa-hey, truce! Also, bonus points if you get the Mean Girls reference. **

**I'm not altogether satisfied with this chapter, and will probably revise it later on, but I hope it serves its purpose for now. Please, please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC. Everything is unbeta'd, so read at your own risk. **

* * *

If ever you call a morning "the morning after", some degree of strange awkwardness is always involved. This morning was no exception.

Loki and I kind of lingered in the corridor while waiting for Thor to show up, and we had the following exchange:

"Good morning, Agent Lee."

"What? Oh, err, hi?" To be fair, he'd _never _said good morning to me, before.

"How does your arm fare?"

"Err, the burn? It's good. I mean, it's not good, but it's healing. Yeah. I mean, it was kind of glancing, and SHIELD has pretty good medical care. The nurse said it'd heal in about three weeks."

Loki seemed to relish how taken aback I was about this new development in our relationship. I didn't know what I'd been expecting after last night, but it certainly wasn't a conversational Loki at seven in the morning. Putting on a deliberately transparent air of concern, he knitted his brows together. "Are you uncomfortable in my company, Agent Lee?"

"Well, I've never exactly had a relationship progress so rapidly from outright disgust to morning chitchat," I snapped. Is this even for _real_?

"Ah," he purred. "Do we now have a _relationship_?"

I eyed him suspiciously. "Do your opinions about people _always_ do this one-eighty degree flip when you both undergo a semi-bonding session?"

He dropped the purring and leaned back against the wall with a shrug. "Well. I just want to get to know you better. You're beginning to fascinate me, to be completely honest. I've never encountered someone quite so… _deceptively_ _blunt_."

"Thanks."

A corner of his mouth lifted. "It wasn't a full compliment."

_**What?**__ Sonofa_ –

"BROTHER!" Thor bellowed, striding down the hall. "LADY KATHARINE!" Loki's smirk deepened at Thor's address.

I turned to the elevator, disgruntled._ I could be more polite if I wanted to. Life's just too short to not say things as they should be said._ Then, _he thinks I look sweet and unintimidating_? I felt like smacking myself in the face. Why the _fuck _should I give a fuck about what _Loki _thinks of me?

I felt his gaze boring a hole into the back of my skull as the elevator doors slid shut. _Because something weird happened and you're playing nicely, now_. _Life moves fast. The only way to go is to roll with it. _

I sighed internally. Glorious.

* * *

Tony strolled into the lab at about eleven thirty and informed everyone that we were moving into his digs with_ immediate_ effect, so please get packed, chop-chop.

I raised my eyebrows at the silence that descended after this announcement. "I think it's a bit too early in our relationship to be thinking about cohabitating, babe."

"You've let Nat get to you, Kitty-Kat. I expected a better comeback. I'm not kidding, guys. Your lord and master, Fury, just gave me the OK." He looked unbelievably smug about getting Fury's permission. No one had the heart to tell him that Fury was just so tired of dealing with Stark that he just agreed with everything and stuck a thousand surveillance cameras where the sun didn't shine and made his underlings (read: SHIELD slaves like me) write him a report every two hours.

The thought kind of depressed me a little. I hated writing reports. But, hey, Stark Tower! It wasn't like I was overly attached to my rooms here, so like. Ok. But why the sudden slumber party?

Stark seemed compelled to answer this query in response to Nat's stoic I-am-the-immovable-rock-_and_-the-unstoppable-force expression. "Um. I'm not sure if you've realised, but your entire lobby and then some was trashed yesterday. Have you _seen_ how big your lobby is? I'm really not a fan of people living in construction, and I have loads of extra space in my Tower, so I'm having everyone here moved into it for Christmas. It's not like Secret Agent Hideout-not-Hideout screams _festive_. We all deserve some festive, right?"

Wow. Is this irrevocable proof that Iron Man has a heart of gold?

Clint looked incredulous. He's not really used to generous, giving people. "Wow, Stark, that's really-"

Whatever he thought of Stark's gesture was drowned out by Thor's hearty exclamation of joy and gratitude. I had a feeling that SHIELD regulation furniture didn't quite manage to accommodate his bulk. Loki, on the other hand, looked pretty sour. I didn't blame him. I'd probably be sour if I had to return where I was unceremoniously pounded into the ground by an enormous, green rage monster and live there.

Stark looked a bit embarrassed at the awkward looks of thanks he was getting. No one actually liked living at SHIELD. Well, maybe Nat and Clint, but they've learned how to like living anywhere they're posted.

"Ok. So, guys, like I said. Chop-chop. I'll have the necessary data from here packed up and sent to Candyland."

I assumed that Candyland was his own lab, and not actually Candyland. Disappointing, but that's what I get for hanging out with geniuses instead of six-year-olds.

But Stark was still talking. "And, pack something nice. Pepper's having this huge Christmas shindig thing, and apparently, we've all been ordered to scrub up." He paused. "Except for you, Reindeer Games. You get to stay in your room and sulk."

Loki looked relieved at that. I wasn't expecting an invitation for him, considering that he'd decimated half the city in a hissy fit, but I was thankful that one wasn't extended, as well. As nice as he was beginning to be to me, I didn't fancy following him around all night trying to make sure he didn't flip the shit out and kill people accidentally-on-purpose. That'd bring a whole new layer of meaning to 'deck the halls'.

* * *

If I ever grow up and quit all this secret agent nonsense, I want to be Pepper Potts. The woman is more productive than my mother on Ritalin. I got the feeling that she, by pure force of timetabling and subtle manipulation, was the only thing keeping Stark alive. I mean, sure, there was that electromagnet thing that kept shrapnel from his heart, but without Pepper, Stark would have definitely managed to off himself by accident, probably pretty ridiculously.

We'd all just disembarked from a helicopter with our luggage and were looking really awkward and a little windswept when a tall, blonde, and impeccable Pepper strode into the room, absorbed in a tablet in her hand and another held by a frowny dude who trailed behind her (I later learned that his name was _Happy_, like the dwarf). In about fifteen seconds flat, we'd all been assigned to our accommodations and were equipped with a guide to Stark Tower which Pepper had come up with last night because she had a meeting and couldn't spare the time to show us around it herself. I thumbed through the pages, incredulous. It came with a contents page and a glossary, _plus_ a personalised little welcome note from Pepper on the front page that managed to sound sweet and not at all like the foreword of the prospectus that this thing resembled. This sort of work put papers churned out by procrastinating college thesis students to shame.

With a sincerely apologetic smile and a handshake all around, Pepper departed with Stark at her heels and Banner following a respectable distance behind, leaving us all reeling in the wake of such beautiful efficiency. Jane immediately set to work on flipping through the guidebook, Thor peering over her shoulder (and into her cleavage). Darcy, upon seeing this, shoved her earphones into her ears and wandered out onto the balcony, exclaiming loudly at the view.

Snapping myself out of my daze, I flipped to the back of the front of page of the booklet, which showed a floor plan of the residential area with each bedroom labelled in block letters. It seemed that I was bunking opposite Loki, with Nat and Clint located down the hall in separate bedrooms. I suppose that secret agent couples need their own personal space.

Thor and Jane, however, apparently did not. With a smirk, I noted that they were sharing a bedroom on the floor below us. Good luck, Banner, Darcy, and Rogers. The Captain was scheduled to return the next day, and I wasn't sure how his old fashioned morals would handle wild extra-terrestrial, godly sex.

Still smirking to myself, I jerked my head at Loki, who was sidling closer to the lift. "Hey, Smooth Criminal. Don't get settled without me."

Disgruntled, Loki stopped and waited for me to roll my trolley bag over, glaring at a spot in the floor a little distance away. Nat raised an eyebrow at my familiar address and Clint's expression tightened slightly, but they didn't say anything as I waved at them and let the elevator doors close on Loki and I.

"I believe that I promised you some form of training, Agent Lee," Loki said conversationally once the doors were firmly shut.

I looked at him hopefully. That brief glance at the floor plan had informed me that we had access to a gym and training area. I wasn't looking forward to physical training with Nat (she'd cornered me in the helicopter and told me that my lack of exercise since the Paracel Islands debacle was unacceptable), but I was pretty excited about learning how to refine the use of my powers. It's pretty sucky, having a mutation but not knowing how to strengthen it.

My expression must have amused him, because a small smile ghosted across his features. "We shall meet in our hall in fifteen minutes and proceed to the training grounds. Since we have the afternoon off, we might as well make the most of it."

* * *

"What you call telekinesis is an ability to manipulate an attractive force. When you call that weight over there to you, you are disturbing the particles around it and moving it as you wish. You may potentially use your ability defensively by focusing on a series of particles along a line, like a wall, or use it to move yourself by concentrating on the energy around you."

I furrowed my brow. "So basically I can use the Force?"

Loki looked vaguely irritated. "I thought you would have understood by now that references to your popular culture mean nothing to me. But, if this Force allows you to manipulate the energy around an object with your will, then, yes. You can."

"Why do I keep passing out?"

Loki looked pensive. "I believe it may be because you are so unused to exercising that part of your mind that your actions under stress may overtax it. The mind, while not a muscle, behaves like one. You need to keep working at it to keep it strong. While you may be able to do incredible feats through sheer force of will, it's unhealthy to keep straining your abilities beyond their current capacity."

Oh. So, basically I'm a bum.

Loki was still talking. "I think that perhaps you could start with something simple, like practice holding a psychic barrier in place."

Sighing, I stepped away from him and tried to clear my mind. Then, when I felt sufficiently calm, I reached out for a block of space between Loki and I and _held_.

It felt slippery, like trying to pat water into a solid shape. Loki glanced at the spot I was looking at and casually waved a hand through it. My wall collapsed like it was nothing.

"Again."

This time, instead of merely holding the spot still, I tried to compress the energy in the spot into a solid shape – like how you pack sand together to build a sandcastle. It held slightly better than my first attempt, but Loki broke through it in about two seconds.

"You aren't even trying very hard," he reprimanded. "_Focus_. I know that you aren't used to putting effort into anything, but you might want to make an exception for this."

I blocked him out and concentrated again. I wouldn't admit it aloud, but his words stung. It's true. I hadn't ever needed to put any effort into anything before, but I would make an exception for this. The way things were looking, the next time I passed out would probably be in enemy territory.

I did not want to die.

We worked for another hour before I got too exhausted to concentrate on anything properly. I'd managed to hold a barrier against which Loki could lean, but if he pushed at it, it would crumble. I was pretty surprised at how encouraging he had been, though. He seemed to know exactly what to say to push me further, and what advice to offer to tweak and strengthen the flow of my concentration.

Darcy found us both on the floor of the gym, me on my back with my arm over my eyes, and Loki in the midst of throwing a towel at me. Extra aware of my surroundings from the exercise, I sensed it coming and caught it weakly with my mind, allowing it to flop over my face.

She leaned against the door frame, and I felt the curiosity radiating off her little black-box-mind in waves. "When did _you guys_ become buddies?"

I scrubbed at my face with the towel and tossed it aside in time to catch the expression on Loki's face as he stood with enviable grace. It was an odd cross between looking taken aback and disgusted at the mere insinuation of buddyship, and I fought the urge to giggle.

"Loki's helping me with my powers, Darce." I gestured at the cooler of isotonic drinks near the door, but the door just wriggled a little. Grunting, I heaved myself upright, but the room spun and I hastily lay back down again.

Darcy eyed Loki as she opened the cooler door and kindly retrieved a drink for me. "Errr? So are you buddies or _not_?"

_Err, I'm not sure?_ I looked to Loki for assistance, but he didn't look very enlightened about the stage of our relationship, either. That being said, he didn't look too pleased about my lack of an answer. Instead of commenting on it, he curled his lip and swept out the door, pausing only to wish us both a good day and promise to see us at dinner.

Groaning, I took the drink from Darcy and tried to avoid her million questions by asking if she could please take me back to my room in silence because I had a headache that could fell a hundred Chiaturi. However, being a creature of hyperbole herself, she just assumed that I was exaggerating (I was not) and continued talking anyways.

I glanced at his closed door before thanking Darcy and heading into my room for a hot bath. _What _are_ we, now?_

* * *

**A/N: I took some creative licence with the layout of Stark Tower, here. The top five floors are dedicated to residential space, and so when I say 1****st**** Floor, it really isn't the 1****st**** floor, and so on. **

**RESIDENTIAL FLOORS:**

**Top Floor: kitchen, living area and dining area. **

**4****th**** Floor: Tony's & Pepper's living space **

**3****rd**** Floor: Guest rooms – Loki, Kate, Nat and Clint **

**2****nd**** Floor: Bruce, Darcy, Steve, and Thor + Jane **

**1****st**** Floor: Gym and indoor pool.**

**Please, please, _please_ review! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC. All this is unbeta'd, so read at your own risk. Also, there's some reference to a culture that you may be unfamiliar with, so just read the note at the bottom about the Peranakans. **

* * *

The time till Christmas flew past. Loki was a man who prized routine above all, and since I was his shadow, my days mirrored his. Nothing much changed from the schedule we followed at SHIELD, except that Loki now threw in two training sessions a day with me – once in the morning before breakfast, and once in the evening before dinner. He spent the time in between closeted up in Candyland with the other brains of our outfit while the SHIELD agents took it in turns to babysit the group of volatile scientists.

Rogers had returned from his tour of duty, and apart from discreetly requesting a pair of ear plugs from Pepper the morning after his arrival, he seemed to settle in quite comfortably. Initially, he wasn't too pleased about Loki being present, but after mulling it over for about thirty seconds, he seemed to get over his feelings and did what no other person in the room had done – he held his hand out for Loki to shake.

Loki had stared at it, slightly confused, before I mimed shaking it behind Rogers' back. That's when his expression morphed into one of incredulity, but he took Rogers' hand anyways. There was a collective, albeit muffled, gasp of shock from our other housemates upon contact. One brief handclasp later, Loki dropped Rogers' hand like a hot potato and abruptly left the room, leaving Earth's Mightiest Heroes looking completely gobsmacked (with the exception of Rogers, who just folded his arms gravely).

"Loki seems to have calmed down," he later explained to a suspicious Clint. "Odin sent him here to do penance. How is he supposed to make amends when we refuse to allow him room to grow repentant?"

Rogers isn't a boy scout. He's a fucking _saint_.

It was great that Rogers had figured out the parameters of his relationship with Loki. I, on the other hand, had no idea of what to do with myself. We were most comfortable with each other during our sessions together; we rarely spoke outside of them, apart from civil niceties. Somehow, my need to rely on Loki's expertise and Loki's determination to teach me had formed a kind of tenuous bond between us; he didn't feel the need to bitch about Midgard, and I didn't feel the need to respond aggressively to some of his sharper instructions when he got impatient. We even exchanged witty banter, upon occasion. Yet, he still referred to me as Agent Lee, and, as Nat had advised, I kept my guard up around him.

We weren't _friends_. We certainly weren't acquaintances. Sometimes, I would look up to find him studying me with a sort of hungry curiosity. Other times, he caught me scrutinising _him_, trying to find a hint of the monster he had been at the battle of New York in order to justify the maintenance of my reserve around him. Truth be told, while I still felt the rage that he'd let loose on me when we'd first met, I'd realised that it wasn't directed at me. It was this dark little cloud of fury that he kept neatly contained, but I had no idea as to what fuelled it.

Honestly, I was beginning to sort of like being around him when he wasn't being a whiny asshole.

But, being the supremely practical person that SHIELD had trained me to be, I tried not to dwell like a lovesick teenage girl on our relationship status. Who we were to each other paled in comparison to the colonisation of parts of earth by fire-blasting freaks.

* * *

On Christmas morning, we all gathered in Candyland for a scheduled mission update before Pepper's Christmas party thing. Fire demons didn't give a fuck about religious holidays (or marketing ploys, depending on how cynical your worldview is), so we couldn't afford to take a break, either.

"We've isolated a general area where we expect the portal to open," Banner said, pointing towards a section of the world map highlighted in red. "We're guessing that they prefer Southeast Asia at this period of time because the climate is more agreeable to them."

That figures. I wouldn't expect fire demons to enjoy the cold and snow.

"We're expecting them to appear around Indonesia and the Philippines, and we'll start hovering in that area once we've got our portal-closing-miracle finished. From the looks of things, we've got less than a week more before it's done, thanks to Reindeer Games over here. Safe to say, guys, Loki could have cured cancer if he hadn't been so busy trying to destroy us all." Stark clapped Loki on the back, and while Loki looked as if he'd like nothing better than to rip Stark from limb to limb, all he did was jerk away and relocate, seating himself primly beside his brother at the worktable that we were all lounging around. I was somewhat gratified to note that his manners were improving.

Thor then took the floor for a briefing on our diplomatic mission to Múspelheimr on Boxing Day (i.e., tomorrow). Having conferred with Odin's ravens a week before (imagine our surprise when two hugeass black birdies began tapping at our windows in the middle of a heavy snowstorm demanding entrance), Nat, Clint and I, by virtue of not being involved in the construction of the portal-closing-miracle, were designated as delegates in an excursion to Múspelheimr with Thor.

It wasn't so much of a briefing as it was a warning to stay close to his cape and not touch anything, but the routine of a pre-mission briefing was somewhat soothing at this period of time. I was used to dealing with terrorists, rogue soldiers, and greedy nutjobs. Up till the whole New York incident, I had been firmly convinced that there was absolutely nothing else out there but a whole hunk of space junk.

Watching Loki out of the corner of my eye as he quietly constructed a simple, low-charge taser from spare parts on the worktable before slipping it, charged-side up, onto Thor's seat, I was inexplicably glad that the final frontier had hidden much more interesting specimens than old pieces of Russian spaceships.

Eventually, Thor stopped nagging and moved to sit – he jerked up with a muttered oath as Loki stared at him blandly – and Stark ended the meeting with a reminder to please suit up nicely because the party was in an hour. Darcy, who had been waiting for this moment, leapt out of her seat, grabbed Foster, and bolted out the door, shouting at me to meet them in her room in fifty minutes.

I stood at a more sedate pace and stretched before falling into step with Loki as we made our way upstairs to our quarters.

"So. What're you going to do, tonight?" I asked him, somewhat tentatively. I felt rather than saw Nat's eyes narrow at this public display of friendship-not-friendship, but ignored her silent warning.

Loki pondered this. "Read, perhaps. I found my room furnished with a collection of plays written by a fanciful over-dramatic Midgardian. While some of his writing leans towards the absurdly romantic, others are passable. I have been reading his historical works."

I thought hard for a moment. "Err, you're reading Shakespeare?"

He shrugged. "Names mean little to me."

He's probably reading Shakespeare.

I suddenly felt a little bad for him, shut up alone while the rest of us put our dancing shoes on. Granted, it wasn't going to be a hell-raiser of a college frat party, but at least we were _socialising_. Loki put the "Lo" in "loner". I did have some film adaptations of Shakespeare's work on a hard drive, though, so I offered to pass them to him in case he got bored with reading. He merely grunted at this, which I took as an "ok, sure, whatever, knock yourself out".

Ok, sure. Whatever.

* * *

I knocked on his door at seven fifteen, five minutes before I was supposed to be in Darcy's room to do the obligatory girl-selfie-instagram party ritual that Darcy had insisted on. The door opened almost immediately, like he'd been waiting for me to come calling (although I probably ought to know better), and I noted, with a burst of self-consciousness, that his eyes widened slightly.

Granted, I don't bother with my appearance on a daily basis, so me looking all cleaned up must have come as a bit of a shock. Normally, I prefer to wear the traditional Peranakan _nyonya kebaya_ at formal functions. My family descends from the Straits Chinese in Malacca; hence, while I'm ethnically Chinese and can speak Mandarin and some other Chinese dialects brokenly, I'm more comfortable speaking in Malay. The women in our family rarely wore cheongsams, but Pepper had mentioned that tonight's soiree was going to be a rather sophisticated affair. I didn't think that the bright, loud colours of the _kebayas_ that I'd brought with me would be appropriate, so I'd wiggled myself into the one cheongsam that my mother had gotten tailored to the measurements I'd sent her for my last birthday. It was black; short sleeved, knee length, and had two large dragons embroidered into the silk in gold thread. I'd curled my hair and pinned it up on one side with a gold comb, and wore the pale green, almost translucent jade earrings that my grandmother had given me for my eighteenth birthday. I'd then shoved my feet into the only pair of heels I owned (black, four inch, wildly uncomfortable), grabbed the hard disk of movies, and stepped across the hall to Loki's room.

He was still appraising me with a look that a jeweller might give a particularly large and shiny diamond. I cleared my throat, hoping that the awkwardness would disappear with the sound. "Hi. I have the movies – do you know how to set the disk up?"

He ignored this entirely. "You should wear black and gold more often. A little more green would be lovely, as well."

Belatedly, I realised that I was wearing his colours. Well. Ok.

I soldiered on, fully aware that my self-consciousness was intensifying. "Just connect this cable over here to the USB cable sticking out of your TV – I assume it's sticking out somewhere, if it's the same TV as mine – and then you can fiddle around with the remote to get the file you want."

He smirked, a very smug look on his too-thin-but-still-unbelievably-attractive face. "Noted, Agent Lee. Have a pleasant evening."

A very large part of me wanted to punch his nose in and run very far away, but it was at war with the other part of me that cried that any damage to his perfectly sculpted face would be equivalent to a very sorrowful Greek tragedy.

I was saved from having to pick a side by the swift and silent arrival of Nat.

Face carefully blank, she subtly cut into our space, forcing me to take an automatic step back, away from Loki. "Darcy and Jane are waiting for you." Her eyes bored into mine, making me feel like a little bug on a card. _So this is what it feels like to be on the business end of the Black Widow_, I thought, trying not to look intimidated.

I schooled my face into an easy smile. "Yeah, Nat, I'm heading there right now. I was just passing Loki some movies for him to watch while we're puttin' on the ritz."

Nat made a sound in acknowledgment, but the atmosphere remained as arctic as a Siberian winter. "I'll see you at Darcy's room, then. She requested that I come as well. Just give me a minute and I'll be right with you."

The dismissal was clear. I wanted to stay put, just to see what she'd do, but she outranked me and was honestly scarier than Fury on a bad day. I inclined my head graciously instead. "Alright, then. Good night, Loki."

His previous smug intensity had darkened into surly moodiness. He didn't even look at me as I left. Nat folded her arms and glared at him as I waited for the lift. The last I saw before the doors closed on me was Loki, outlined in the yellow light of his room, towering over Nat, hidden in his shadow.

* * *

You'd think that a party thrown by Stark would be more entertaining.

I mean, it kind of was, but Stark was the only one being entertaining. Everyone else just made conversation in his or her own little circles. Darcy was off dancing with some hotshot investment banker. Banner and Foster were having an excited discussion about astrophysics with some old dudes from a research facility. Nat and Clint were nowhere to be found (I wasn't going to think about that too deeply; the thought of Nat getting down and dirty with Clint was _nauseating_), and Thor was busy drinking some rich, gung-ho people under the table.

I was nursing a glass of scotch at the bar, having deflected two halfway-drunk men and another who was being offensive with his "hey Asian girl" pick-up lines. I helped that last one along on his way with a nasty psychic face-plant into the ground, but even that did nothing to alleviate my mood. To my utmost dismay, I'd discovered myself contemplating going upstairs and cuddling up to Loki for movie night. Peering down at my empty glass sadly, I blamed the drink for my unhealthy desire for closeness with Loki, despite knowing that while I was pleasantly buzzed, I wasn't even close to drunk enough to warrant being that crazy.

"Lady Katharine!" A meaty hand was slung across my shoulders, almost dislodging me from my barstool. "Why do you drink alone on this night of revelry? Be merry!"

I smiled weakly as Thor bellowed at the bartender to supply him with more liquor. "I'm cool, Thor. I just don't feel like walking around, looking pretty."

He frowned, settling himself upon the stool beside me. I was briefly concerned that it wouldn't hold his weight, then decided not to care. Stark's rich. He could afford a thousand more barstools if Thor's weight proved too much for this one. "Methinks that the company of my brother has ruined you for other company, Lady Katharine. I had not thought that you were one to prefer solitude upon our first meeting."

I gestured at the bartender to refill my glass of scotch, which he reluctantly did. I'd been there for a while. Mayhap he was getting worried. "I don't know about the company of your brother, Thor. He's not as bad as I thought he'd be, but he's still so _bristly_. Like an exceptionally grouchy porcupine."

"I know not what a porcupine is," Thor said thoughtfully, "but he seems to enjoy being around you. He was always quiet, but when he discovered his true lineage, he became self-destructive, unapproachable, and unstable. You have anchored him a little, whether you have realised it or not."

A blue flag in my brain popped up. "Lineage? You mentioned that Loki is adopted. But like, is he from Asgard, or somewhere else?"

Thor now looked wary. I decided to elaborate. "When we were attacked at SHIELD, I ran to find Loki, and found him being manhandled by the fire demons. Except, he was blue. Like full-blown poster paint blue, with red eyes. It wasn't scary or anything, but it came as a shock."

The god of thunder stood rapidly, motioning for me to stand as well. I did, slightly confused, and allowed him to march me to Candyland, two floors below us, in total silence. Only when the lab doors were shut, leaving us alone and away from prying eyes and surveillance, did he speak. "Loki is part of my family in all but blood. He is my brother, and always will be. However, he hails from the race of Jötunns; your people may know them as the frost giants. He was abandoned at birth for being a runt, and was found by my father, Odin. Even as an infant, Loki's magic was strong. Some sort of instinctual magic woke at Odin's touch, and Loki took the form of an Aesir babe; the form of an Asgardian. He was raised as such in my father's house for millennia; it was only recently, in the course of an act of my folly, that he discovered his true heritage. He did not take the knowledge well." Here he paused, and I could tell that he was editing events heavily in his mind. "At the end of a great deal of trouble, Loki willingly cast himself into the Void to avoid the consequences of his actions. I did not see him until two years after that, during the incident which your people call The Battle of New York."

I knitted my brows together, and realising I was still clutching my drink, took a calming sip while I digested all of this. "So he reacted badly upon discovering that he was adopted?"

Thor pursed his lips. "It is difficult for me to explain the dynamic between the Asgardians and the Jötunns. Suffice to say that every Aesir child is raised to believe that Jötunns are naught more than savages; hideous beasts that steal you away to eat if you have behaved badly. Loki believed this as we did. The sudden burden of his origins, being so swiftly thrust upon him, was too much for his self-perception to bear. The corrupting power of the Tesseract in the hands of The Other in his time in the Void did nothing to aid his mental state."

"So why was he blue? Was that his frost giant form?"

Thor nodded in the affirmative. "When he was sent here to do penance, our father bound his magic within him, leaving him only the barest amount to keep up his Aesir glamour. However, I believe that he is stronger in his Jötunn form, and that is why he reverts to it instinctively during combat when he has nothing else at his disposal, as he did that day."

I knocked back the rest of my scotch and thought all this over. Empathy, strong and painful, hit like a brick to the gut. So _that's _why he's so angry. Neither a true Asgardian nor a true frost giant, Loki exists suspended in an identity limbo of his own warped upbringing, hating what he was and craving more than he was given. I saw that about him, even if Thor did not. Loki had a major self-esteem issue, and at least part of it stemmed from feeling like he could never measure up to his golden brother. It was in the repeated rebuffs of brotherly gentleness that Thor afforded him, in the impatient disapproval in his eyes when Thor gloried in physical activity, and in the jealous fury in his eyes when Odin's ravens had flown only to Thor upon their arrival without sparing him a second glance.

Thor was watching me, as if he was half afraid that I'd run screaming from the room. I took a deep breath. "Thank you for telling me this, Thor. I think… I think I'll go and see how Loki is doing. From what you've told me, it sounds like he needs a friend. And, um, merry Christmas."

A huge, genuine smile of relief nearly split his face into two. I took a moment to appreciate how handsome he was, but noted how little I was affected by it. "Thank you, Lady Katharine. A merry Christmas to you, as well."

I hopped out of the chair I'd sunk into, smiled shyly back at Thor, and hobbled out of the room, stopping only to step out of my shoes. I was done with this awkward stage of almost-friendship-cum-sexual-tension. Well. I wasn't going to do anything about the sexual tension part, because that would be pretty presumptuous of me (he's a god, I'm… not), but _hey, Loki. You've got a friend in me._

* * *

**A/N: So, there'll Kate/Loki bonding in the next chapter; hurrah! **

**The Peranakans, or Straits Chinese, are the descendants of 17th-century Chinese immigrants to Peninsular Malaysia and Singapore (one of the legends is that they came in the retinue of a Chinese princess sent to marry one of the sultans). There are smaller numbers of Indian and Eurasian Peranakans as well, but they are far outnumbered by their Chinese counterparts. **

**The difference between the Straits Chinese and later immigrants is their assimilation into the local Malay communities; they are a separate sub-culture within the Chinese ethnicity in Singapore and Malaysia. They have a unique style of dress, have developed a cuisine that marries Chinese and Malay traditions, and speak a creole of Malay (but this dialect is dying out; many younger Peranakans can no longer speak it, preferring to converse in either English or standard Malay). The Peranakans are _fascinating_, and I suggest that you do a google/wiki search on them to find out more. I'm afraid that my brief summary is insufficient in providing a fuller picture of their culture. **

**One of Loki's major inner struggles revolves around the idea of identity. To create a sort of counter to this conflict, I chose to give my OC a backstory that meshed a number of different identities together. While Kate expresses an affinity for her Peranakan upbringing, she still embraces her purely ethnic Chinese roots. It is to be noted that these identities are not necessarily distinct and separate. **

**Also, just a quick FYI: A lot of people have this stereotypical conception of a glamorous Chinese pin-up girl as one in a cheongsam with chopsticks in her hair. As a Chinese girl myself, I was taught that wearing chopsticks in my hair is offensive. The trend was started by decadent Shanghainese prostitutes in the 1920s, who did that to flaunt the fact that they had enough to eat (as opposed to other prostitutes who... did not). Those chopstick-like hair accessories that you see in Japan and China aren't actually chopsticks; they're made specially for hair. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC. Everything is unbeta'd, so read at your own risk. **

* * *

Taking a brief detour to the kitchen to snag a bottle of wine and two glasses, I headed up to Loki's, leaving my shoes in a corner and padding upstairs in stockinged feet. I suffered a brief flash of doubt and panic in the space between my knock and his answer, but it melted away when Loki cracked the door open and raised an eyebrow at me.

"Did you know Christmas is the time of good cheer?" I babbled, holding the wine aloft. God. Maybe I'd drunk a little more than I'd realised. "You didn't have anyone to cheer with, up here alone, so I decided to come and cheer with you. The night is still young, so we can get lots of cheering done. And watch a movie simultaneously. I want to watch Henry V." I actually did _not_ know what time it was, but when I'd left the main room with Thor, Stark hadn't been drunk yet, so it couldn't be too late.

Loki squinted at me. "Are you inebriated, Agent Lee?"

Frowning, I shoved past him into his room, throwing myself onto the couch in front of the TV and setting the wine and glasses down on the coffee table. He shut the door and followed, still looking stern. "I'm _buzzed_ – actually, closer to tipsy on the sliding scale of drunkness – but I want to watch a movie with my friend. And since you're my friend, you can call me Kate. No more of this Agent Lee bullcrap. _Farham?_"

"I beg your pardon?"

I huffed, plugging the hard drive in with a flick of my wrist and impatiently searching for the remote with my other hand. "_Understand_?"

I could tell that he was just deciding to humour me when he sunk down on the couch, leaning away from me into the armrest. "Are you going to throw up on me?"

I decided that this question did not warrant a reply, and having found the remote, I flipped to the movie that I wanted and settled down into the couch, waving at the wine and glasses. "Here. Open and pour." I directed, sending them in his direction.

He complied, still looking bewildered at my forwardness. I sighed, and paused the movie just as the opening credits began to roll. "Look, Loki. Lulz, Looki." Loki's lips thinned at this, so I barrelled on awkwardly. "I talked to Thor about the blue thing that I saw that time, and I got the gist of it. Frost giant and internal struggles aside, you're a cool guy. You're actually kind of decent once you get past all the broody bitching. I know that you have your reasons for being a dark, moody dude, but you can drop the whole Lone Wolf thing. We're friends, so chill out and drink some wine. It's Christmas, the season of new beginnings and stuff. I think. The son of God was born on this day – or his birthday was assigned to this day – anyways. Whatever it is, these people called Christians celebrate the start of a new age; one of mercy and forgiveness and stuff. While you definitely cannot be compared to Jesus Christ, maybe today you can let go of some of the loneliness that you clothe yourself in, and while not actually be born again, take an active step to losing some resentment."

He opened his mouth to retort back, but I held up a hand and glared. "I know I'm a bit of a jumble right now, but all you actually need to know is that we are now friends. Ok? Can? Now drink your wine and watch the movie. The princess in this one is called Kate, too, and I rather like how King Hal wooed her. He's a real smooth motherfucker. You'd benefit from wooing lessons."

He leaned back in his seat, somewhat disgruntled, poured himself a glass of wine, and then put the bottle out of my reach. "You've had enough," he admonished when I grumbled. Sneaky bastard.

* * *

Henry V is _long_. I sobered up completely about halfway through it (Loki let me start drinking again once I started whining in order to shut me up – he was, surprisingly, very into the movie), and by the time the credits rolled, my hair was in a mess, my comb and earrings were resting on a coaster, and I had my feet up on the coffee table. Loki, on the other hand, was still sitting properly on his side of the couch in his plain white t-shirt and sweatpants, glass of wine forgotten, absolutely riveted by the play.

I sighed, contented. "Wasn't that great? He's all like 'FRANCE IS MINE! WAR! WAAAAAAAAAR!' in the middle, but he's damn persuasive and charismatic. Kind of like you."

Loki made a dismissive sound. "I fail to see how he could be so charmed by a mere chit of a girl within seconds of meeting her."

"She's pretty! And sweet." I turned to beam up at him and fluttered my lashes. "_An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel_."

He laughed. "I presume that you wish for your own Henry V to whisper gentle phrases into your ears?"

"I'd like someone to be drawn to me for more than how lovely I am, thank you very much. He totally just met her _that day_. They didn't even have the courtesy of a ridiculous song-and-dance number before he asked her to marry him. How's he supposed to fall in love with her as a person if he hardly knows her?"

"Their marriage is political. Kings love what is good for their country. Their actions do not necessarily speak of the heart." I sensed a sort of bitterness creeping into his tone.

I pushed myself upright and placed a hand on his before fully thinking it through. He looked down at me, startled. "Well. I don't presume to know why Odin adopted you, but I'm not a king, or a prince, or anyone particularly fancy. And I like you just fine."

There was a beat of _oh god we just became friends and now he probably thinks I'm hitting on him but I'm trying so hard not to but he's so attractive even when he's all angsty _before I felt his lips on mine: cool, insistent, his tongue skating gently across my lower lip. It was over in an instant, and he pulled back to fix me with darkened green eyes. I was still holding his hand, and realised that his entire body was stiff, as if he was waiting for me to push him away. I squeezed his hand, and a little of the tension dissipated. He leaned forward again. God. He kisses like he had a thousand lifetimes of practice in making women weak at the knees. He kisses like he has a thousand lifetimes ahead of him to learn the curve of my lips.

_He kisses like he has a hundred thousand lifetimes. I only have one. _

His lips moved to my cheekbones, and that's when he discovered that I was crying silently.

He pulled back, alarmed. "Kate?"

"I can't do this with you, Loki," I whispered, cupping his face in my hands. My fingers were trembling and I could feel my heart in my throat, the desire pumping through my blood. "I want to. I want to, so badly, because you're clever and fascinating and not the monster we thought you were. So not. But you're immortal and I only have the next seventy years or so. I don't do meaningless flings. I don't really know what you want, but I can't do it. It's not you. How am I supposed to go into a relationship knowing that there is an expiry date to us being together? Let's just – let's _just_."

He swallowed, and taking a deep breath, The God of Chaos, Lies, Mischief, and charged silences pulled me into his chest, giving me a quiet place to dry my tears. He held me like I was fragile and delicate.

I hadn't been allowed to be fragile and delicate in years. Part of my brain registered the irony that it was a mass murderer who made me feel like an emotional teenager in the thick of her first ever crush on someone completely unattainable.

When I'd calmed down, he tucked my hair behind my ears, closed my fist over my jewellery, pecked my forehead chastely and delivered me to my room.

I fell asleep in the cocoon of my blankets, pretending that they were the borrowed space in Loki's arms.

* * *

The morning after was, contrary to previous experience, not all that awkward. By mutual understanding, Loki and I glossed over the kissing and sobbing at the end of the night and skipped straight to being partners-in-crime. Everyone was hungover to varying degrees (except for Foster, Thor, and Banner – apparently the loss of inhibition caused by alcohol consumption also meant the loss of control over his inner green man); Loki took full advantage of this to orchestrate quiet havoc at the breakfast table. He swapped out sugar for salt, palmed Stark's aspirin and held it under the table for me to silently float to rest in the little triangle of space on Clint's chair between his thighs, and generally acted like a particularly sneaky five year old. After about fifteen minutes, I got caught levitating one of Rogers' bedroom slippers while Loki filled it with honey, which got us both sent out of the room by Pepper, who was fighting an amused smile despite Loki having choreographed a moment that ended with her getting syrup in her ear.

We ambled out, beaming (which stunned most of the table – Darcy just smirked, taking the opportunity to slide all of Foster's bacon onto her own plate, and Thor looked extremely pleased at Loki's good humour), and flopped down onto the couches in the freshly cleaned living room, still chuckling.

"You are a burden," Loki accused dramatically, jabbing a thin finger at me. "No proper trickster worth his salt ever gets _caught_."

I batted his hand aside and tossed a cushion into his face, choosing not to bring up the two major times that _he _got caught red handed in his games. The whole New Mexico and New York things may be touchy subjects. "But we did manage quite a bit of fun before blowing it. How freaked out d'you think the rest are?"

"Pretty freaked, actually."

I sat up so fast I could feel my brain knocking against the front of my skull. "What the _fuck_, Stark; when did you start sneaking around? I thought you don't do that low key shit."

Stark raised both his eyebrows. "Firstly, Kitty Kate, it's my house, so I can be as sneaky as I want to be. Secondly, yes, we're all very freaked out at Snake Charmer's… sudden charm. You wouldn't be a different, _nicer _brother in disguise, would you?" He addressed that last bit to Loki, who scowled like an ace. "You should go back to the smiling, sweetheart. It really brings out your eyes." Loki's scowl deepened.

"Stark. You're making us both uncomfortable. What do you want?"

"I want to know what the fuck is going on." He plonked down on the sofa next to Loki, whose scowl evolved into a full-fledged death glare. "One minute you're all frigid and professional, and the next, you're starting a food war in my dining room. What the fuck happened?" He shot me a look. "You didn't sleep with him and turn him good with the healing power of sex, right?"

I spluttered. "God, Stark, _no_. We're just friends. Right, Lokes?"

Loki grunted in reply, still glaring at Stark.

"You sure he didn't slip a draught of love potion into your morning coffee? I mean, those things are potent. Wasn't that how Voldemort's mom got herself laid by the shallow, handsome rich man?"

I huffed impatiently. "Harry Potter is _fictional_. In any case, I'm not suffering from extreme infatuation with Loki," - _what a lie that is_ - "and, no. He did not slip any love potion into any of my drinks. Ok?"

Stark held up his hands in defeat. "Okay, Kate. Just looking out for you. And _you_," he fixed Loki with a look that could melt lead. "You hurt her, and _I'll_ throw you out the window. Then get Bruce to smash you into the floor. Again."

Loki turned to meet Stark's gaze for the first time in a month. "I have fought in a hundred thousand bloody battles. I have spent an eternity under the scalpel of the Other. I have known more agony than your base Midgardian mind could ever fathom. Your threats, while noble in their intention, mean nothing to me. But fret not. I will not allow harm to come to her." He paused, as if considering the reception of what he would say next. "You have my word."

I had never seen Stark thrown off balance, before. He looked at Loki, really _looked_. He must have found what he was searching for, because he dipped his head and stood as the others began filing into the room to prepare for our departure to Múspelheimr from the terrace outside.

Loki moved over to me and took me by the shoulders. "Rely on your telekinesis should the need arise. Do not engage the Eldjötnar in physical combat, and do not let them touch you. Thor is a fool who rushes into the thick of the fray. Hang back and pick them off as they approach."

I nodded, suddenly nervous. "This diplomatic mission is a mistake, isn't it? They're just going to laugh and barbeque us for dinner."

Loki pursed his lips. "The mission is political in nature. The All-father is averse to jumping into battle prior to seeking a peaceful resolution to conflict. Apart from avoiding needless bloodshed, it also helps to… bolster his image as a benevolent, magnanimous ruler."

I snorted inelegantly at this. From what I'd gleaned from Darcy, Odin was being an asshole about Thor dating Foster. He might be a great king, but he's terrible at giving support where it counts.

We were interrupted by the arrival of Thor, who asked if he could steal his brother away for a moment. With a last squeeze to drive home his warning about the Eldjötnar, Loki let me go and grudgingly gave Thor his full attention.

Sighing, I reluctantly made my way over to Nat and Clint, who were checking their weapons by the sliding doors that led to the terrace. I was pretty curious as to what Nat had said to Loki the night before, but I knew better than to ask. It was probably something along the lines of mutual distrust and a warning to stay away from SHIELD agents.

She launched right into it as I got to her elbow. "What are you doing, Kate? The spending habits of Russian oligarchs make more sense than Loki. He's _mad_."

"He's also hot." I couldn't resist baiting her. I couldn't. Sorry.

Clint shot me a look that clearly conveyed that he thought that I was batshit crazy.

"_Katharine_."

"C'mon. He's not all that -"

I was cut off by the re-appearance of Thor, whose demeanour was now exceptionally grim. "Let us depart. We cannot afford to delay."

Taking a deep breath, I braced myself for the cold as Thor slid the doors open and stomped onto the terrace. Nat, Clint and I followed, shouldering our way to the open area that gave Odin space to work his magic mojo from his royal perch up in the heavens. Holding on to each others' hands tightly, we only had to wait for a terse moment before we were enveloped in light.

I turned my head as we went, and the last thing I saw was Loki, who had stepped out behind us to watch us go.

Then I felt my body disperse into a million, billion atoms.

* * *

**A/N: It isn't long to the end, now! Just a couple more chapters to go. (Don't worry; Kate and Loki will _eventually _work it out. Be patient!) Also, PLZ PLZ PLZ REVIEW PLZ  
**

**Chapter notes: **

**_Farham_ means _understand_ in Bahasa Melayu.**

**I took the liberty of quoting from Shakespeare's _Henry V_. The movie adaptation that Kate and Loki watch is the one by the BBC. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC. All of this is unbeta'ed, so read at your own risk. **

* * *

For one awful, nauseating moment, I was one with the universe. I was a drop of wine on a shirt and the speck of dust on a man's nose and the scale of a fish in a cavern deep beneath an ocean in an unfamiliar realm.

Then, with a painful crunch, I felt my bones reassembling as we were dropped unceremoniously onto a bed of dirt. Without ceremony, I rolled myself over and threw up behind a rock until I was pretty sure that my supper from six years ago was right there along with my breakfast that morning in that puddle of sick.

Nat and Clint weren't faring any better either, and a small, rather petty part of me felt a little smug at the sight of the Black Widow retching. This has surely never, ever happened before.

Thor was already up and ready to rumble, waiting for us to get our stomachs together. I staggered up first, rummaging for the water flask that I always kept at my belt. Taking a good, long draught, I tossed it to a waiting Clint, who shared whatever was left with Nat. "Fuck, Thor. We have to do this _again _to get back?"

Thor looked pretty apologetic. "I don't believe that the biological make-up of Midgardians is quite suited for the All-father's method of transportation. If we only had the use of the Bifrost, perhaps your journey may have been more comfortable. Unfortunately, it is still under construction."

Nat waved his explanation away with a slightly tremulous hand. "It's fine, Thor. Let's just get moving."

Thor snapped to attention. "Indeed. Loki has informed me that the main Eldjötnar settlement is an hour's trek in that direction. We cannot afford to waste any more time."

_That direction_ turned out to be a practically invisible trail that wound around a series of cliffs and hills and plateaus that all looked the same. It was hot, dusty, and miserable. As we trekked, Thor began pointing vents of poisonous gas that had to be avoided. After about fifteen minutes, I discovered that I'd developed a deep-seated longing for something, anything green. The feeling intensified as we crowded into a narrow, serpentine pass between two rocky cliff faces.

I took some time to revise the social structure of the fire demons as we set off. Thor had painstakingly prepared a Powerpoint presentation on what to expect, but, admittedly, Powerpoint presentations are often ignored in favour of other things – like napping.

The Eldjötnar lived in a loose collection of tribes, each led by a headman. Each headman reported to the elected head of the entire feudal system. The current chief was Surtr, whose name meant "the black one". That's pretty dark, if you ask me. The perfect name for a villain. Here's hoping that he wouldn't go all Sauron on our asses once we got there.

I was so caught up in my internal monologue that I didn't realise that Nat had crept up behind me. "So. What is the deal with Loki? You're not keeping withing the parameters of your mission!"

I leaped about a foot into the air and had to do a sort of ridiculous pirouette mid-flight to avoid landing on a vent. "_Fuck_, Nat, aren't we supposed to be focusing on the mission? It's not exactly time to _gossip_."

Nat huffed, placing her feet carefully on the path, avoiding loose stones. "I don't understand why people can't grasp the concept behind multi-tasking."

I paused to glare at her before continuing to trudge onwards. "Loki and I are friends. He's not as bad as you think he is, and he's perfectly fine to me. I know that he did a lot of really shitty stuff, and I'm not excusing that, but I think that he's working through his issues. That sort of thing should be encouraged. He's getting a second chance. He's using it." I stopped again to fix her with a look that was meant to be meaningful. "I thought you'd understand the value behind being able to rebuild your life."

"It's not the same," Nat replied, tersely. "My ledger can't possibly be compared to his."

I shrugged. "Callous as it sounds – and I'm not intentionally being a bitch for reminding you of all your evil assassin days – if you're going by a life-by-life comparison, it's probably about the same. He totalled quite a bit of New York during his own murderous rampage, though, so I suppose that you have the upper hand when it comes down to property damage."

Nat's nostrils flared. "Excuse me -"

Whatever Nat was going to be excused for, I'll never know, because that's when a fireball was launched over a rock outcrop ahead of us.

From the angle of the launch, it wasn't headed straight at us, which meant –

"_Fuck_! They're bringing the cliff down on us! RUN!"

Not needing to be told twice, Nat and Clint started sprinting towards the end of the pass. Thor just pointed his hammer at the sky (lulz) and he was off like a rocket towards the hostiles firing at us. I brought up the rear, trying to hold a shield in place to protect us from falling debris. So far, I was catching the smaller pebbles just fine, but we had to really start legging it, because I didn't think that my shield could withstand a hit from anything larger than a fist-sized rock.

One last frantic burst of speed got us out of the collapsing pass, but we didn't dare to slow down as we hurtled up the trail leading up to where the sounds of a battle were already ringing, loud and clear.

Diplomacy my _ass_.

There were two fire demons advancing on Thor, who was clearly on the defensive. I suppose he didn't really want to injure the people that he was supposed to negotiate with. I had no such qualms about hurting them to get them to back the fuck off.

"OI!" With a forceful gesture, I knocked the two demons off their feet and kept hold over one of their eyes; Loki had mentioned that this was a weak point. I made sure that they could feel the pressure of a thumb placed over the jelly-like surface of what passed for their irises. Both demons froze.

"We have no desire to make battle," I announced carefully. Do they speak English? The other dudes on the helicarrier could. Whatever. I'm speaking English. "We are a diplomatic mission from Midgard, accompanied by Prince Thor of Asgard, the God of Thunder. We seek an audience with Chief Surtr regarding his planned invasion of Midgard."

I really had no idea as to how to continue, so I shot Thor a look, imploring him to take over. Nodding, he cleared his throat. "We beseech you to serve as our escort to Chief Surtr. However, if you play us false, neither of you will survive."

One of the demons made a sound like a derisive laugh, and would have spoken if Nat hadn't cut in. "If you play us false, neither of you, as well as the next settlement we reach, will survive."

I ground my teeth. You can take the Black Widow out of the assassin's den, but you can't take the assassin out of the Black Widow.

"We accept your terms." The other fire demon managed to choke out. I let them up slowly at a signal from Thor, and eyed them as they stood. The one who'd spoken seemed a great deal younger than his partner; I wasn't sure about how age was derived for these people, but he was a lot slimmer and miles more unsure of himself.

Clint casually notched an arrow in his bow, keeping it angled towards the older demon. "Let's hustle, then."

* * *

The main settlement of Borg was, actually, pretty breathtaking. Hundreds of caves were carved out of the side of a cliff, making it look like a dusty red honeycomb. Some warriors had pitched tents at the foot of the honeycomb, but these looked more like a defending force than it did an army. My guess was that whatever the demons were using to transport them to Earth, it was with the main army, and a distance from here, where civilians would be protected from the fallout of any miscalculations in the science behind the portal's machinery.

We picked up an armed squad of fire demons as we passed the base camp; these soldiers surrounded us as we ascended a well-trodden trail up the honeycomb, but they didn't move to take our weapons from us. Either they firmly trusted that we wouldn't renege on our promise not to attack, or they didn't think that our firearms would be of any threat to them.

I was more inclined towards the latter explanation, and had a sinking feeling that it was probably true.

We were herded through an unassuming hole in the cliff and through a maze of tunnels before being thrust into a larger, low-ceilinged chamber (it barely cleared the heads of the huge fire demons), more lavishly decorated than the other Spartan rooms that we'd passed. Brightly coloured rugs littered the floor, torches burned in beautifully wrought iron sconces, and painstakingly crafted clay ornaments occupied niches and nooks.

At the very end of the hall, an enormous monster of a demon lounged across a rough earthen throne.

Surtr.

"Well met, Odinson." His voice was like the roar of the ovens in a crematorium. "I see you have brought playthings. Still, you are all not welcome in my halls."

Undeterred, Thor moved forwards until he was standing at the foot of the throne. The two guards flanking Surtr didn't even bother to look menacing at Thor's proximity, which worried me. Either they didn't view him as a danger to their chief, or Surtr was strong enough (and liked bloodshed enough) to take Thor out on his own. Both were not great scenarios.

"The people of Midgard demand that you withdraw your forces immediately from their territories," Thor stated baldly. I wanted to stab myself in the face. Wasn't the crown prince taught _anything_ about diplomacy? I wasn't an expert in negotiations, but I knew that you weren't supposed to begin by antagonising your opponent.

Surtr looked like he'd smelled something exceptionally nasty. Granted, he'd looked like that when we'd come in, but the bad smell seemed to intensify as he gazed upon Thor.

"My people have lived in poverty, Odinson. We have enough fire in the ground to live off, but we need more to truly advance. Rather than digging holes in the earth with pickaxes, we can simply reach across to Midgard and harness the power of their mountains of fire."

I furrowed my brow. I hadn't actually seen any volcanoes around, to think of it. Everything was kind of just red and rocky and hot.

"Asgard can help you to find new sources of energy, Surtr. There is no need to channel it over from Midgard. Even if you did, you would be putting the Midgardians who live around these mountains of fire at risk with your experiments."

Surtr waved an impatient hand. "There is no need for my people to scavenge, directed by your patronising Aesir, if they can rip what they need from the rich earth of Midgard. Mortal lives are of no importance to me, Asgardian. I look only to my people, and my people desire advancement."

Clint was getting really, really pissed off. He was probably taking all the "mortal lives are of no consequence" and "take what I need and fuck everybody else in the universe" bullshit very personally. I don't quite think that he's over being used as Loki's pawn to obtain Loki's ends.

Anyways, it was he who turned right around and started heading for the exit, only to find it blocked by two guards.

The level of tension in the room suddenly kicked up about ten notches.

Thor didn't even look away from Surtr when he heard Clint's exclamation of surprise. He just slowly started swinging his hammer around as Surtr got to his feet. Then, as calmly as if he was discussing the weather, he addressed Surtr. "It would be wise for you to allow us to leave."

Nat and I shifted closer together, eyeing the hostile iron spears that were closing in on us. Clint was silently backing up onto the highest ground available to him: a wooden table shoved up against the wall. Not exactly a nest, but it would have to do.

Surtr didn't look fazed at the momentum that Thor was building up. "It would be wiser for me to fell you here and now, Odinson. An inevitable battle is looming, and I do not wish for you to be at the head of my enemies. It is better to thin the ranks now."

The next minute and a half was extremely confused.

Pandemonium broke out the moment that Thor let his hammer loose, catching Surtr below his chin as the demon reached for him. I found myself back-to-back with Nat as we fended off a horde of very angry demons and their red-hot spears. _So much for hanging back and picking them off. _

I was wrenching spears from grasps to bury into their owners and knocking heads against each other when everyone was distracted by a very loud bang. Surtr had thrown Thor up through the ceiling before following him, leaving a gaping hole that let in a blaze of hot sun.

_We're on the top level_.

There was no way that we could fight our way through all of the fire demons on this floor all the way to the bottom. We had to get to open ground.

"Time to leave!" I shouted, tossed aside the fire demons between us and the hole in the ceiling. By some miracle, Clint had vaulted over to it and he gave Nat a boost up. She in turn caught his arm as he jumped and hauled him up (fuck, she's _strong_), and with a small explosion of psychic energy directed to the spot where my feet met the floor, I propelled myself upwards onto the top of the plateau that the honeycomb was situated within.

Up ahead, Thor and Surtr were really duking it out. We _had _to get going, but I had no idea of how to take Surtr out when I could already feel my concentration wavering.

Clint solved the problem for us.

With a vicious twang, he sent an arrow speeding through the air to lodge itself in Surtr's back. It would have been his head if he hadn't jumped in an attempt to bodyslam Thor, but at least he went down.

Thor was all ready to finish him, but the iron javelin that buried itself into the ground inches from his boot was a mighty discouragement.

Fire demons were racing towards us from one side of the plateau, and they were extremely throw-happy. It wouldn't take long for one of them to hit a target.

"All-father!" Thor bellowed, as we raced towards each other. Another javelin whistled over my shoulder.

Then everything was lost in a wash of gold, and I felt myself dissipate into the universe once more.

* * *

We materialised back on Stark Tower at what felt like late afternoon, and once the ritual purging of our stomach contents was complete (although there really wasn't any more to purge, to be honest), we staggered back into the tower.

We hadn't expected anyone to receive us, given that the scientists were all hard at work in Candyland.

Even if we had been expecting someone in the living room, it would not have been Director Fury.

He looked like he'd been there for a while, given the dent in the couch he'd been parked on. Two agents stood discreetly at the sliding doors, while two others stood at the door to the rest of the residential area.

He also looked more grim than usual.

"I take it that the diplomatic mission did not go as planned?" He inquired. We were too exhausted to do anything but shake our heads in affirmation.

"Well, fuckshit happens." I wanted to deck him, but I was too worn out from the flurry of trying to keep from being skewered in the dark of a cave on another planet. "Barton, Romanov, I expect reports on my desk tomorrow. Lee," here, he paused, as if slightly concerned about how I would react to his next words in my current state – I could have told him that he needn't have worried, because I honestly did not have any energy left to feel anything – "you're going home."

_What? The fuck? I mean, yay, but like, why? Now? What? _

My only outward reaction was to raise an eyebrow. Even _that _was tiring.

"A Singaporean naval patrol was attacked by the Eldjötnar. Your country wants you back. You have half an hour to pack. A helicopter will meet you here to take you to the airfield."

I wanted to sit down. I did not.

"We're not sure if you'll be coming back, so I suggest that you make all your goodbyes now."

I wanted to lie on the couch and never get up. I did not.

Nat, Clint and Thor, who had been on their way out the door, froze. I kept my back straight and my knees locked.

I didn't know how to feel. On the one hand, I was going home. On the other, I was leaving people that I'd actually gotten used to being around. I was leaving _Loki_, arguably the most fascinating being that I had _ever met_. I already knew that I was going to carry on through life comparing every man I met to Loki.

And I was leaving all of that.

That's an awful lot to process after a mega fight with an alien species, but training took hold and I replied Fury with the only answer he expected.

"Yes, sir."

I guess I'm going home.

* * *

**A/N: Review, please!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC, and all this is still unbeta'd. Read at your own risk! **

* * *

Half an hour really wasn't enough time to get all the junk that I'd accumulated over the past four years together. But, by some miracle, I managed it just in time to sprint to the terrace, only to run to a screaming halt in the living room.

Rogers. Nat. Clint. Stark. Pepper. Darcy. Foster. Thor. Banner. And, furiously pacing in a corner, _Loki_. I knew that I hadn't gotten close to as many people as I wish I had, which was why a lump rose in my throat. I was still on a last-name basis with practically everyone. And yet, they were all there, waiting to say goodbye to a snarky, awkward girl whom some of them barely knew.

Normally, I would have been uncomfortable with the level of emotion in the room, but since this was the last time I'd probably see any of them, I would have been more upset if nobody cared enough to show up. I went down the line, making it a point to try and convey how touched I was with a hug. Banner wasn't really a touchy man, so I think I took him by surprise when I threw my arms around him and squashed him really tightly, but I'll probably never get to hug the Hulk again, so. Yeah. Darcy, on the other hand, hung on for a solid minute. When we finally parted, my shoulder was suspiciously damp, but then again, so was hers. I genuinely liked her; she was the first actual friend that I'd made here. I'd miss her. Fuck, I already did.

When it was Nat's turn, her usually stoic facade seemed suspiciously flimsy. We had a lot of unresolved issues regarding our attitudes to our work and the whole Loki thing, but I guess that the fact that we'd saved each other's lives now and then counted for something. She pulled me into an embrace, whispering something soft and gentle in Russian.

I'd avoided looking at Loki, who hadn't stopped moving. But he froze when I got to him, face creased in frustration and angst. We stood there, looking at each other for the longest time, before I tentatively reached out to him for one last touch. What happened next came as a shock to everyone present. Hell, it came as a shock to _me_.

The disgraced God of Lies, Mischief, Chaos, and Heart-stealing cupped my face firmly in his hands and gently kissed my mouth. "This is _not_ goodbye," he whispered fiercely against my lips, then released me and stalked out of the room before I could react.

A SHIELD agent station at the sliding doors cleared his throat tactfully. "Agent Lee, we have to leave."

I nodded blankly, still stunned. Then with a really, really lame half wave at the others (who were still trying to process the fact that Loki had _kissed _me), I muttered a goodbye and hightailed it out of there before I lost my shit and ran after Loki demanding that he kiss me again (and again, and again).

He said he'd see me again, and I trusted him, liar or not.

* * *

And so that brought me here to this secret-not-secret special ops base hidden on one of my country's sixty-three constituent islands, thousands of miles away from Loki, waiting for an old dude to tell me what to do with the rest of my life.

I'd arrived early that morning, but it seems that administration across all countries are always damn fucking inefficient. We're always rushing through orders, only to end up waiting an eternity and a day for more orders to come through. After a brief rundown on the attack on our naval patrol, I'd been left to my own devices on this godforsaken facility, waiting for the unofficial chief of defense to get his nose out of non-lethal documents long enough to talk to me. I'd kicked up a fuss and demanded to use the showers, finally scrubbing away the sweat and dirt from the fire demon skirmish that felt like a lifetime ago. Throwing on a T-shirt and yoga pants, because that's what a civilian would wear on a long-haul flight, I bundled my sleek SHIELD catsuit up into a plastic bag and thrust it into a corner of my suitcase (an army pack would blow my cover like nothing else would). Then I trotted off in search of lunch. It'd been a long time since breakfast yesterday – but I refused to think about breakfast yesterday. I _refused_.

The mess hall was unusually crowded with professional looking soldiers in army fatigues who looked at me strangely as I swanned about in civilian clothes, rolling a bright pink suitcase around. I would have worn special ops fatigues, but I didn't have any with me, and no one had seen fit to provide me with them. I wasn't going to traipse around in an extra SHIELD catsuit either, so. Whatever. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a captain make a move towards me with an intention to reprimand, but I casually floated my drink to me with a lazy pull of my fingers. He paused and sat back down. _Score._

"Lieutenant Lee."

It took me a while to realise that I was being addressed. I hadn't been called Lieutenant for so long, I'd forgotten that that was my rank. That and there are a thousand other Lieutenant Lees in this country. About half of them are probably within a ten-kilometre radius. On the other hand, you know who _isn't_ within a ten-kilometre radius?

"Lieutenant Lee?"

I shoved thoughts of Loki aside and turned to glare at whomever had spoken to me. He was a corporal, probably still serving out his conscription into National Service. He looked distinctly nervous and kept glancing at my flip-flops. "Yes, Corporal?"

The boy gulped. I felt pretty bad for the guy. He must have drawn the short stick in the clerks' office when they were trying to decide which unlucky sonofagun would have to track down the mutant to give her her orders. "Major-General Kesavan will see you, now."

Rolling to my feet, I levitated my tray of mostly uneaten _nasi lemak _(there was good _nasi lemak_ and there was bad _nasi lemak_; army base _nasi lemak_ would _always _be bad _nasi lemak_) to the tray disposal area and pulled the handle of my suitcase up. The kid looked ready to pass out. "Corporal," I intoned, snapped his attention back to me. "Will you take me to the Major-General?"

He nodded, and shakily turned on his heel and marched out of the canteen, without daring to see if I followed. Sighing deeply, I trailed behind him, my flip-flops slapping the floor in a decidedly un-military-like fashion. I was _exhausted_. It was now about 12am back in New York, and while I'd tried to sleep on the flight over to get myself used to the time zone here, the quinjet hadn't been built with comfort in mind. Thankfully, the walk was short, and with a gentle dismissal, I sent the boy back to his den and knocked on the door of the real chief of defense in this country.

Kesavan was a military veteran who had, it was rumoured, been the star commando back in the day, taking down terrorists and spies and doing dozens of drops in hostile territory. No one knew exactly what the years had done to such badassery, because whoever he had been, he was now always impeccably dressed, mild-mannered, and generally harmless. In other words, he was the perfect civil servant.

I tried to look more alert as I shuffled into his office, but from the look on his face, I probably failed several times over. "Sir. Lieutenant Katharine Lee reporting for duty, Sir."

"Do take a seat, Lieutenant. You look terrible."

Gratefully, I sank into a chair. It wasn't more comfortable than the plastic ones in the mess hall, but at least I wasn't swaying on my feet.

"Firstly, Lieutenant, I want a full report on whatever you know about these Eldjötnar. They came from nowhere and took an entire ship down in a minute and a half." His expression tightened, and I felt a hollow swoop of distress in my gut. Some of the sailors had managed to escape in a lifeboat, but we'd lost four men. Someone had to explain to their families that their fathers and brothers and sons had been killed by fire demons who'd poofed out of the sky at the crack of dawn before poofing right back up. The knowledge that they had died in the course of defending their country would be little comfort to the bereaved. After a beat of silence, Kesavan continued. "Send it to me by the secure server tomorrow morning. I understand that you're tired, but this cannot wait. Secondly, you will book into this facility the day after tomorrow. You will be operating from here for the foreseeable future – at least, until the Eldjötnar threat has been contained. These," – here, he scrabbled around his desk for a moment before unearthing a slim manila folder from under a pile of documents – "are your orders. We will allow you a full day at home to recover from your recent skirmish and jet-lag; it is regrettable that we cannot afford you more time, but we need you on hand."

I nodded, expecting that. There weren't many mutants here, and not all of those with offensive abilities pledged their lives to the military. The most that the army got were the odd nineteen-year-old kids whose pre-National Service medical screenings unearthed the mutant X-gene. They were immediately set aside to be shunted into special ops, but few of them signed on after completing their term of National Service. I would be a significant asset to any squad I was assigned to, and Kesavan had to put all his strongest players out in the field _now_.

Not that I felt particularly strong at the moment, though.

Kesavan leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "Well, that's all, Lieutenant. Welcome home." He smiled, then, a real, genuine, toothy smile that had me smiling back despite my deep-seated desire to curl up on his floor and take an eighteen-hour nap. I followed Nick Fury because I had to. I followed this man because I _wanted _to.

As I stood, saluted, and left for the docks to get on a boat that would take me to the main island, I felt a stirring in my chest. Even though it really sucked to be ripped from my friends and the first guy to kiss me in four years, it was pretty good to be home.

* * *

My family was ecstatic when I turned up on their doorstep. SHIELD had provided me with a very complicated cover: my parents thought that I was on a government scholarship, reading law in the UK for the first three years of my absence before moving to the States to take the New York bar and train at a firm there. For the first three years, whenever my parents wanted to visit me, SHIELD would fly me to London, set up a tiny flat, give me a crash course on what I was actually supposed to be learning, and leave me to act the part of a stressed-out law student for two weeks. After they left, SHIELD would pack everything up and ship me back to the US so I could continue killing insurgents and evil people for them. They really did go to great lengths to help me maintain my cover, which I suppose was very professional of them.

Admittedly, it wasn't a very believable cover, because _no one reads law in the UK only to become a solicitor in the US_, but I'd wanted to become a lawyer before being seduced by guts and glory, and my parents had been fully committed to making that happen. Rather than spin another story that would have them annoyed and demanding that I come home to read law locally, SHIELD just came up with something that would satisfy their parental pride, banking on the fact that they wouldn't inquire too deeply as to the merits of reading law in one country before practising it in another. All of this because law is a post-graduate degree in the US. Way troublesome.

Anyways, I digress.

After a great deal of squealing and squeaking and crying (on Mama's part, because she's emotional), a lot of shouting and bouncing and beaming (on Papa's part, because he's also emotional), a lot of hugging and demands as to why I was so thin (on Grandmama's part, because that's how she shows love), and a little bit of shy conversation with my little brother, Ian (who was too young to remember much of me), I managed to get upstairs to my old room and collapse onto my bed.

I spent the rest of the day and most of the next in a blur of sleeping and eating. I'd told my family that I was only going to be around until the day after, because I had a conference to go to in Hong Kong (LIES), but they accepted this without any fuss. My parents, bless them, are both very shrewd people, but they are also absurdly trusting wherever I'm concerned.

I'm not quite sure why. Papa built a business empire on his shrewdness, but he still believed that I'd strained myself from weight-lifting that one time that I video-called him with a heavily bandaged shoulder (I'd taken a bullet from a drug lord).

On the night before I was supposed to book back into the special ops facility, Grandmama arranged for a real, honest-to-god authentic Peranakan feast. I literally teared with joy when I entered the dining room, inhaling deeply.

Grandmama and our maid, Haslinda, had been eyeing me carefully from the kitchen, and that was probably the reaction that they were looking for because the two of them burst into smiles wider than I thought the human face could possibly accommodate. That made me want to cry even _more_. How could I have left home to chase some mad glory when I clearly belonged _here_?

New York and Loki were the farthest things from my mind as I took my place at the dining table with my family and clasped my hands to say grace for the first time in four years.

That's probably why the doorbell rang just as Papa murmured "_Amen._"

Mama was visibly displeased at the interruption. "Who on _earth _calls on someone else during dinner?"

I shrugged, helping myself to a heaping portion of rice. Haslinda had gone to answer the door, so we'd probably find out soon enough. Food first, people later.

Then Haslinda came into the dining room, looking exceedingly perplexed. "Sir, Ma'am", she began, "A Mr King is here. He says he knows Kate?"

I paused in the act of piling _chap chye _onto my plate. A _what_?

Getting out of my chair and giving my plate a regretful glance, I thanked Haslinda and hurried from the room with an excitement that had nothing to do with food brewing in my belly.

I knew only one megalomaniac who wanted to be king.

Slipping through the open front door, I hustled down the driveway to the front gate to see our visitor for myself. With a flash of disappointment, I noted that he was blonde, but I swallowed the bitter gall and carried on at a slower pace, calling out as I went. "Mr King?" I got no answer, but he raised his head.

I reached the gate, and, seeing his face, promptly burst out laughing.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the wait! Work has been _madness_. **

**Kate is Singaporean. Here's a very brief rundown: **

**The Republic of Singapore is a wealthy, multi-racial country on the tip of the Malay Peninsula. It is not in China. It's actually a collection of 63 islands, but everyone lives on the main one (Singapore island, or Pulau Ujong). It's _not _a dictatorship, although it is rather more paternalistic than what Western countries are used to. **

**During WWII, Singapore, then a British colony, fell to the Japanese. She had no local army to defend herself, having relied on the British to protect her from invasion. After three hard years of Japanese occupation, the war ended, and Singapore was free once more. However, people were unhappy about what was perceived as abandonment by their colonial masters, and they no longer looked to the returning British for protection and governance. After achieving independence, one of the first things that the new government did was to mandate that all young men had to serve a two-year stint in the country's military. This obligation is called National Service, and is modelled on the Israeli national conscription schemes. Boys typically serve their two years after completing junior college or equivalent educational tracks (IE after they finish high school), although they can apply for deferment of service if, for instance, they get into the local medical school (when they finish schooling, they then work as army doctors for the rest of the duration of their service). **

**_nasi lemak_: literally, it's coconut rice. It's generally served on a green pandan leaf, with _ikan bilis_ (dried anchovies), fried fish, peanuts, an egg, slices of cucumber and a heaping spoonful of sambal chilli on the side. In the mess hall, however, it's probably just lumps of stuff around rice on a plastic plate. **

**_chap chye_: it's a cabbage dish that's a lot tastier than it sounds. Google it. **

**Kate comes from a wealthy Peranakan family. A lot of people in Singapore employ maids, so it's no surprise that her family employs one. **

**I hope you liked this chapter. Review, please! **


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC. Everything is still unbeta'ed, so read at your own risk. **

* * *

"Oh my god," I wheezed, hands shaking as I undid the lock on the side gate by hand. "I did _not _expect to see you here. Like this. At all."

Loki's answering chuckle was smug. "I _told _you that it wasn't goodbye."

Finally, he stooped through the side gate (we only opened the main gate for cars), and I could see him properly. His grin was pure mischief, now, and I resisted the urge to reach up and yank on his head of lush (there really was no other word to describe them), golden curls. His eyebrows were blonde as well, and I'm not sure whose idea it was to dress him up in a Hawaiian shirt and boardshorts, but he looked every inch the clueless, guileless tourist. They'd even kitted him out in _flip-flops_. In _yellow_.

"Well. Hello, then, Mr King," I forwent shaking his hand and threw my arms around his waist (because I couldn't quite reach his neck). I had to see if he was real; there was no way that _Loki_ could be here in my parents' house on an island literally halfway across the world, dressed so ridiculously. I hadn't even known that he realised that there were colours other than green, gold, and black.

But he _was _real. His heartbeat sounded loud and clear against my ear, and after a rapid _lubdub_, he brought him arms up around me in what I hoped looked like a friendly hug. Half of me hoped that it wasn't, because I was still besotted with him and wasn't going to pretend otherwise, but the other half of me (the clever, sensible half) knew that it was imperative that we acted like we'd irreversibly friendzoned each other.

We didn't only have to be _just friends _because of the whole death-is-the-great-divide impracticality to a relationship; we had to be _just friends _because we were in my parents' house. I'd never brought a boy (even those in platonic friendships) home before. They still thought I was a _virgin_. Granted, I haven't had sex in so long that, to paraphrase the immortal Chandler Bing, I was convinced that my virginity had grown back.

Also, the whole murderous-rampage-in-a-major-city thing wouldn't exactly be a great recommendation.

Our embrace was interrupted by a very loud and clearly fake cough. Colouring, I slide away from Loki to face my parents, whose eyebrows were almost disappearing into their hairlines. "Katharine? Won't you introduce your friend to us?"

Mama was _obviously _annoyed at not having me completely to the family for the last night of my painfully brief visit. I felt a pang of guilt, which probably showed on my face. Loki cut in smoothly.

"I apologise deeply for the interruption, Mrs Lee. I'm Henry King, one of Kate's colleagues. I'd been away from the office for several months, and happened to be passing through Singapore when I heard that she was in town. Naturally, I decided to surprise her. I do hope that you don't mind me dropping in like this. I understand that it's terribly rude."

Papa was still playing up the whole disapproving-suspicious-gruff-father thing, but my mother visibly melted from a combination of Loki's polished accent, charming sincerity, and godlike persuasiveness. He could convince a lion that it was a turtle, and then get it to lay turtle eggs. _I've got to ask him to try that, one day._

"Don't worry about it, Mr King. Come on in and join us for dinner. I don't think that you get food like this in either England or the States – which is probably why our Kate came back to us so _thin_."

For the record, I could gain ten kilos and show my muffin top off in skinny jeans and a sports bra and she'd _still _call me thin.

Loki beamed. "Thank you for your kind invitation, Mrs Lee. Do call me Harry."

Papa's frown deepened, but he still let Mama lead him into the house. He did, however, shoot me a look that clearly read_** expect numerous questions. **_Loki had caught it, too, and he smirked as he trailed us into the dining room.

My exuberance at seeing Loki started to fade as Haslinda laid a place for him beside me. The fact that Loki of Asgard was about to have dinner with my family was slowly sinking in. I hoped fervently that he and Papa would be on their best behaviour. Loki was still wont to wreaking havoc when he was annoyed, and I had no doubt that Papa would be pretty grating if he was shifting into _overprotective father _mode.

"So, Harry," Papa began conversationally, politely heaping a generous portion of rice onto Loki's plate, "what legal work do you do? Corporate work? Litigation?"

_And so it begins. _

It was like a hail of bullets during a shootout between rival Mexican border gangs. _What exactly do you do? Where did you read law? Where were you schooled before that? What do your parents do? Fathered any children out of wedlock? Do you have herpes? _

He didn't actually ask that last question out loud, but I _knew _that he was thinking it.

Loki certainly lived up to his title as the God of Lies. I was pretty interested in his answer to the fathering-children part, because the file that Fury had handed me at the start of all this had contained some pretty kinky shit about a six-legged horse. Of course, he denied having any spawn, but I resolved to ask him about it later. You never know when a mutant horse will come in handy.

Mama and Grandmama kept shoving food at him, which he politely ate as he was being interrogated. I was honestly pretty impressed. He ate the most out of all of us (that's frankly no mean feat, given that we're victims to the national obsession with food), which definitely scored him points in Mama's and Grandmama's ledger. Ian was all of ten years old and he was mind-boggled by how much Loki could put away (he later sidled up to Loki to ask, very seriously, if he would grow up to be as tall as him if he ate his own weight every night at dinner). Apart from the Inquisition, which he handled beautifully, it was a pretty successful night.

Loki didn't stay very long after dinner. I knew that he was trying to give me some time with my family, and I appreciated that. But I also fully expected that he would find some way to me later, because he wouldn't have just turned up here for no reason. There was no time for courtesy calls when the fire demons were getting ready to colonise volcanoes.

I walked him back out to the gate. Once we were out of earshot from the main house, Loki sighed contentedly and patted his belly. "Your Midgardian fare is very odd, but I must say that it is quite satisfactory."

I grinned, mirroring his action. "You'll be as broad as Thor if you continue feasting like that. I've never seen you wolf down so much."

Loki shrugged. "I was famished, the food was novel, and I've realised that if your family is anything like you, the best way to placate them is to continue eating."

I flushed, remembering the pineapple tarts. But not _all _members of my family were equally taken by Loki's eating habits. "I'm sorry about my father. He's a little intense."

"I'd be more concerned if he didn't care enough to ask," he laughed. "Fret not, Kate. I understand him."

We'd reached the gate, and sensing that he needed to tell me something, I took my time fiddling with the lock on the side gate. Loki stepped around, keeping his back to the house. I wanted to tell him to relax, because nobody in this neighbourhood could lip-read, but it wouldn't have made a difference anyways. These habits were as instinctive to him as breathing. "The Black Widow dropped me off here earlier, but the rest are in a helicarrier hovering near the Philippines. I will tell you more later on; where is the window to your room?"

I answered automatically. "It's the second balcony on the third floor on the left side of the house." Then, my brain caught up with my mouth. "How are you going to get up there? You still don't have magic, and you're in flip-flops."

Loki threw me a look that clearly questioned my intelligence as he brushed past me to step through the gate. "I would be a poor Asgardian male if I couldn't find my way up to a lady's bedroom undetected, magic or not."

I stiffened. "Whose bedrooms were you finding?"

He only smirked and strolled away, whistling. _Git_.

* * *

"That's a very nice boy," Mama observed when we were all splayed out in our living room with some mindless chick flick playing on the TV. "Why haven't you told us about him, Katie? The sexual tension between you is thick enough to be cut and served on dessert plates."

I choked on my spit. "_Mama_!" I gasped, appalled. "Papa, it's totally not like that. I swear. Totally."

Papa grunted. "Might as well call a spade a spade, Kate."

"What's sexual tension?" Ian asked suspiciously. "I know what _sex _is, but what's that got to do with tension?"

My god. "Look! Now Ian's asking about sexual tension!" Wait a minute. "How the – erm. How on earth do you know about sex? You're _ten_!"

Ian gave me the same _christ, what a simpleton _look that Loki had bestowed upon me twenty minutes earlier. "I go to a _boy's _school, Jie. But I don't understand why people do it. It sounds disgusting."

Oh. Well. He _still _shouldn't be hearing about sex at ten. Also, it won't sound too disgusting to him when puberty hits in a couple of years, but there's no need for him to know that yet.

I threw my hands into the air. "There really is nothing going on with us. Really. It wouldn't work out anyways."

Mama patted my arm indulgently. "Of course, sweetheart."

I excused myself and kissed everyone goodnight after about an hour. It just about broke my heart to do it, because I wasn't sure when (or _if_, a pessimistic part of me whispered) I'd see them again. But if I never did, I wanted to make sure of something.

Taking Ian aside, I sat him down and informed him that what I was about to tell him was important.

"Ian, I know that I haven't been around and that you don't really remember me at all; you were, what, six when I left?"

He nodded, still itching to go back to the living room. I clacked my tongue to draw his attention back to me.

"Do you still remember what I could do?"

Ian creased his forehead. "Err, eat a whole plate of _buah keluak _by yourself?"

"No, the other thing." I was pretty flattered that he remembered that thing about the _buah keluak_, though.

The light seemed to be dawning on him. "Like the time we used to play with my aeroplanes and you'd make my aeroplanes actually fly?"

I nodded seriously. Ian's eyes widened. "Is that why you went away?" He whispered.

_Smart kid alert! _

"No, fuzzball. I went away for something else. But, because I can do special things, you may be able to, as well."

He started looking very excited. No, not the way I wanted this to go.

"Ian, I'm not sure about whether you'll have the gene or not, ok? I may just be a freak accident. But I want you to be careful. If you do have it, it'll start manifesting during puberty – they teach you that in Health Ed, right – and you have to keep it quiet. I don't know what you'll have – you may have telekinesis and telepathy like me, or you may not. Tell Mama and Papa, but _don't tell anybody else_, and don't let anybody else know. Come to me immediately." – _if I'm still around, that is –"Boleh?_"

Ian nodded, still dreaming about flying or becoming Cap Am or some other superhero shit like that. I let him go back to the living room after one last hug, feeling very bittersweet. I was once his age; I was actually about his age when the headaches started coming.

I trudged upstairs to my room, musing on lost innocence and the merits of hindsight. Lost in thought, I almost screamed when I entered my room and discovered Loki lounging on my bed, holding some sort of animal.

"The _fuck_," I squeaked, shutting the door behind me hastily.

"Not quite, although that is quite an accurate description of what these sort of assignations usually led to."

I sat beside him on my bed, trying to wrap my head around his appearance. He was still in his ridiculous tourist attire, but had observed the courtesy of leaving his flip-flops out on my balcony, for which I was grateful. I'd never gotten used to the Western convention of walking into the house with shoes on.

The thing that he was turning around in his hand was the curly blonde wig that he'd donned earlier; his own roughly cropped black hair came into sharp contrast with his eyebrows, which were still blonde. He looked so ridiculous that I had to stifle a giggle.

"When I demanded to see you, Darcy insisted on giving me a, ah, _makeover_. I still do not have my magic, or I would have cast an illusion upon myself, so that your parents would not recognise me from my earlier, err, transgression. She assured me that all Americans on holiday wear these hideous garments, and that since my eyebrows had to match my wig and they didn't have fake eyebrows, I had to dye them gold." He scowled, plucking at his left one. "I assume that I look quite foolish with dark hair and fair eyebrows."

He did, but I wasn't going to confirm it. He was surly enough about it as it was.

"Either way," he declared, casting his wig aside, "we have completed the portal-closing device. I worked through the night after you left and insisted that everybody else did so as well." He forestalled my horrified protest at such enforced slave labour with a wave of his hand. "They were all cognisant of the urgency of the project. Now that it is complete, we are waiting for the Eldjötnar to surface with their main force. Thor and the others will then engage the warriors in battle whilst you and I will slip through their portal with the device and plant it on the generator on their side. If it works, which it certainly will, because it is mainly my invention, the portal will destabilise and we can activate the self-destruct function remotely, giving us plenty of time to escape from their facility. The All-father will then extract us and send us back here, where the Eldjötnar army will, hopefully, have been defeated."

I took a moment to digest all of this. "When you say 'Thor and the others', do you mean 'Thor leading a small army of SHIELD agents, along with the other Avengers?"

Loki nodded. _Right_, that makes more sense than six people trying to take down a whole army. I mean, they're Earth's mightiest heroes, and technically, they've already done it once, but that's really no reason to push their luck.

"Why just you and I? Is it like a friendship bonding activity?"

"We need all soldiers out on the field, and to be honest, _Agent _Lee, you're not exactly a model soldier. You have rather strong survival instincts, though. That works in your favour. In any case, a smaller infiltration force would find it easier to sneak past the Eldjötnar. Our intention is not to smash our way in; we are far more subtle than that. You have your telekinesis, and that will have to do. I am stronger in my… other form, so as distasteful as it is, I have no other choice but to don it." He looked moodily at his hands for a moment. "After this is done, I will teach you how to use your telepathy offensively. Your telepathic abilities are not powerful enough to persuade stronger minds, but if your intention is not to persuade, you might find it a useful tool in battle."

I didn't inquire further. This new use of telepathy sounded a little ominous. Then my eyes landed on the locked drawer holding my manila folder of orders and I bolted upright. "_Shit_! I have orders to report to the special ops base, tomorrow. I'm on fire-demon patrol; I already sent in the report on them. I can't just _not _show up; that'll be me going AWOL, which is just a half step below treason. How now?"

Loki didn't look too fazed by my freak-out. "You'll still be going on 'fire-demon patrol'. Except, if you come with us, you'll be getting rid of the Eldjötnar threat altogether."

I genuinely felt like crying. I've disobeyed orders before, but this was different. I couldn't just up and leave. I'd never be able to come back. I spent so much time wishing I was back home, and now that I was back home, the best thing that I could do to save it was to ignore my orders and never see it again.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting to ten. I already knew that I had to go with Loki. I wanted a real shot at shutting down the fire demon portal, and I wouldn't be able to do that if I bunkered down with a squad of terrified men, sailing up and down clear patches of ocean. I hoped that Kesavan would understand, but I had to be prepared that he wouldn't.

I don't think that Loki quite appreciated the sacrifice I was making when I sat at my desk to draft an email to Kesavan informing him that I would not be reporting at 7am the next day, to be sent exactly at 6:59am. Some part of me felt invincible; of _course _my country would welcome me back if I helped rid them of the fire demon threat. Of _course _I would come back. Of _course _everything would still be as I'd left it.

But I'd been in the military for quite a while, and I knew that people took being away without leave very, very seriously. My hands trembled as I started packing for the trip, so much so that I barely registered Loki preening himself in front of my mirror. What was I doing this _for_? Glory? Guts? A personal vendetta after being attacked one too many times?

No. I just wanted them gone. I wanted no other Singaporean son to die on patrol from wounds inflicted by greedy space-invaders. And although my superiors would have argued that my opinion about how best to allocate my energies was irrelevant in the face of orders, Loki was right about one thing.

I wasn't a model soldier. But _hell _if I wasn't going to survive to explain myself.

* * *

**A/N: NOT LONG TILL THE END, NOW! **

**_Buah Keluak_ - a sort of nut, traditionally stewed with chicken. Google it. It's really good. Really, really good.**

**Ian calls Kate _jie_ because that's short for _jie jie_ (姐姐), which is Mandarin for _older sister_. It really depends on family preference, but other Peranakan children may call their older sisters _kak_, which is short for _kakak _(that also means _older sister_, but in Malay). **

**Also, _Harry _is the diminutive of _Henry_, so there isn't an inconsistency with Loki's false identity. **

**I went back to edit Chapter 10, replacing all the _'my mother'_s, _'my father'_s, and _'my grandmother'_s with _Mama_, _Papa_,and _Grandmama_. I figure that it would be more realistic, given how close Kate is with her family. I also introduced Kate's younger brother as Ian, so it would be more consistent with this chapter.**

**I don't own Chandler Bing, either. If you don't know who he is, I strongly recommend that you go out to a video store and check out all ten seasons of FRIENDS. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC. This is all still unbeta'd, so read at your own risk.**

* * *

By seven A.M. the next day, I was safely on board the helicarrier, lounging around a table in a conference room. Just like that first time that we all got together like this, everybody was chillin' out whilst Hill droned on and on (this time, it was about logistics and air support). Granted, these were very important things, but I'd been up since three thirty in the morning and I'd just surreptitiously sent Kesavan my _hey I'm bailing for a pretty good reason so ttyl_ email from my phone under the table, so I was pretty much over whatever she was saying.

Loki had left after I'd finished packing; Nat had demanded that he stick to a curfew, because he _still _hadn't redeemed himself for New York. She was waiting in a car on the next street, ready to take him back into SHIELD custody. He grumbled a little, but I told him to suck it up. He totally _did _deserve their mistrust, and it wasn't like they were chaining him up and shackling him to a wall. I'd woken up after a four hour nap, thrown sweatpants and a hoodie over a SHIELD catsuit, kissed my sleepy parents goodbye, and gotten on a bus to the jetties, where a boat piloted by another agent was waiting. I removed my disguise en route to the rendezvous point, sliding my boots on just as we stopped under a patch of ocean illuminated by a spotlight from a helicopter hovering above us. The other agent caught the end of a cable and hooked it on to me, doing the same to another cable and my suitcase. Nodding my thanks to him, I allowed myself to be hoisted up, up and away, ready to return to work.

Admittedly, I wasn't quite ready to sit up and pay attention to _Hill_.

Eventually, Rogers stepped up with the attack plan. It was basically everything that Loki had told me last night, but with one difference.

According to Rogers, _he _and I were the ones who were supposed to do the planting of the device.

I raised my hand, confused. "Erm. I thought that _Loki _and I were supposed to be doing the smash-and-dash."

Thor leapt to his feet, shoulders tense. "I told you that you would be staying _here_," he growled. Loki sat back in his chair and met his brother's angry gaze.

"And I told you that I would be going with Kate. Clearly you aren't very good at listening to people."

"You have no magic, Loki. What have you to defend yourself against the Eldjötnar? There are no weapons you are familiar with here. It is too late to have knives forged for you. You will stay here and supervise the attack."

Loki was out of his seat and snarling in the space of half a heartbeat. "You would have me caged like a rabbit! Just because I do not throw myself into the fray, it does not mean that I fear battle. Give me a gun and I swear upon Yggdrasil that my aim will be as true as if each bullet were a knife."

Thor opened his mouth to protest, but Loki bulldozed on. "And you think that I am _weak _without my magic? Hah!"

And then with a harsh exhalation, blue flushed down the pale of his skin, raising ridges and swirls in a complex pattern dance of tattoos in its wake. Red seeped into his eyes, staining the whites with blood and eating into his irises, leaving a more catlike pupil. Only his hair remained the same: cropped and unmilitary. Craning my neck around, I almost sniggered upon seeing that his eyebrows were _still _blonde, but the atmosphere in the room was too tense to support jocularity of any kind. No one else found his eyebrows funny, so. Ok.

In fact, everyone was looking pretty horrified at his sudden transformation (well, except for Darcy and Stark – the two of them were very obviously fascinated). Thor looked like his balls had shrivelled up and fallen off.

"_Loki_," he spluttered, clearly trying not to freak out. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Am I not naturally strong in this form, _brother_? Do I not have strength to break the backs of a hundred Eldjötnar across my bended knee? Surely it was the All-Father's intention for me to embrace myself in my entirety, despite stripping me of the magic known to the Aesir, and gelding me of the frost-touch inherent in my blood brethren."

"Brother," Thor said lowly, quietly, trying to breathe evenly. "I know that this pains you; the reminder of this pains you. I mean only to spare you distress."

"You mean to spare me distress?" Loki repeated, incredulous. "Then let me go with Kate and _let me keep her safe_!"

Woah.

Everybody turned to stare at me in the dead silence following Loki's outburst. I didn't know how I was supposed to look; I was torn between rejoicing, because _wow he cares_, and feeling rather insulted that he didn't think that I could look after myself. Come to think of it, if anyone here had a right to be insulted, it would be Rogers. Loki _really _didn't think very much of the Super Soldier Serum thing. Eventually, because everybody was still staring at me as if I'd grown a second head and that head was a pug's head, I settled for playing the calm card.

"Boys. Sit down. Both of you." I rose very slowly, keeping my hands out in the universal gesture for _calm yo' tits_. Thor sank into his following a subtle prod from Foster, but Loki remained on his feet, still furiously glaring at his brother. "Loki." I wasn't going to touch him, because touching an angry Loki is kind of like slapping an already pissy cobra, but I turned to him and held my hands, palm up, in the space between us, offering a bridge back to a world with less rage. "I will go with you, ok? Everyone's fine with this." I took a moment to place some pressure on Thor's shoulder when he started to get up again. He took the hint and sat back down. "Everything's fine. _Loki_."

Reluctantly, Loki turned to me, visibly trying to get his temper under control. I tried to continue being a reassuring figure, but I was starting to panic, a little. Did he _honestly_ think that I was going to injure myself, or, god forbid, die?

With supreme force of will, Loki inhaled and exhaled, hard. The colour drained like paint in a sink, drawing away from his fingers first. The entire process took less than three seconds; then it was pale, gaunt Loki who clasped my fingers, kissed the back of my hand, and exited the room.

I made to go after him, but it was Thor who shook his head. "He needs some time, Lady Katharine. Leave him be."

Predictably, it was Stark who spoke up next. "So, Thor. First question: is Asgard actually Pandora? Second question: is your little brother blue _everywhere_?"

* * *

I found Loki tinkering in the lab on board the helicarrier an hour later. He still did not seem inclined to be chatty, but it's not like I take that sort of thing into consideration.

"So," I began, perching myself upon an overly-squashy swivel chair, "What're you doing?"

"Streamlining," he replied, tersely.

"Uhhuh." I eyed the tiny silver box he was fiddling around with, intrigued. "Is that the portal destroyer?" I'd taken to calling it that. It felt catchy.

"Yes."

"Why can't we just go _boom _instead of waiting for it to disable the portal?"

Loki looked at me as if I was mad. "A portal is a tunnel through the swirl of time and space. Do you really want to channel an explosion through that?"

_Well, I'm sorry that I can't keep up. _He was clearly still hung up about what had happened, because, y'know. Loki likes to brood. Preferably on the ashes of what was once a lush utopia populated by innocent little beings, but he's not particularly picky. I huffed, blowing a lock of hair out of my face. "Lokes. Not to try and fish for affirmation, or anything, but why are you so hung up about keeping me from harm? It's not like I haven't survived seriously morbid situations, before. SHIELD did train me with a view to keeping myself alive."

Loki acted as if he hadn't heard me, focusing all his attention on screwing the final panel on to the portal destroyer _just so_.

"Err, hello, God of Chaos?"

"Why can't I want to ensure your safety for myself?" he snapped, hooking the device onto the utility belt of the SHIELD regulation fatigues he was sporting. Thor wasn't able to squirrel Loki's battle gear from Asgard, and Loki was too proud to ask his father for it himself, so he had, with obvious disdain, consented to wearing SHIELD's uniform.

"I don't know," I muttered, staring at my boots. "You're just awfully intense about it. SHIELD agents are trained to put the mission first. Saving comrades comes second. No one's ever been so insistent on getting others out alive before."

In the blink of an eye, Loki was in front of me, tilting my chin up with a gentleness that was wholly incongruous with his tone. "I have had every good thing in my life stripped from me. I will not have you taken, too."

I honestly had nothing to say to that. As it was, breathing, let alone breathing evenly, became a problem. As I stared at him like the proverbial dumb deer in the headlights, the attack alarm began to blare.

We both leapt into action. Loki snatched the remote detonator from the workstation and threw it in my direction – I was in the process of checking if I had both my revolvers ready and almost missed the catch – and we were off, racing towards the deck.

Surprisingly, for the number of people mobilised and the possibility that a great number of people would die today, the allocation of agents into quinjets was pretty organised.

Loki and I clambered into a separate quinjet from the main group. We had a small squad of SHIELD agents as backup, but the bulk of SHIELD's resources were amassing for a full-frontal assault. Hill was barking orders through a com-link as tech flunkies sent field coordinates to pilots.

As we took off, Fury's voice crackled over the intercom. "_Attention, all agents. The Eljötnar have made contact on the island of Luzon, in the Philippines. They've opened a portal on the side of Mount Pinatubo. There are no civilian settlements directly in their path, but Golf Squad will be ensuring that all civilians are evacuated from the site ASAP. November Squad, hover on standby at the portal site. All other units will report to base point and wait for the hostiles to clear higher ground. Draw them further away from the portal, and use the jungle to your advantage. Win. Fury out._"

What an inspirational motherfucker.

Our pilot activated the quinjet's stealth mode as we neared the portal; from a window, we could see ragged lines of fire demons streaming from a tear in the rocky face of the volcano. They were _huge_; warlike and grim, they moved purposefully down towards lower ground, torching any vegetation in their way. Something in my gut clenched at such casual destruction. We had to get rid of this madness.

It was incredibly difficult to wait silently until the entire fire demon army had exited the portal. There was an overwhelming urge to pick them off while we had the element of surprise; thin their ranks early. But, we couldn't alert them as to our position. Loki must have noticed the tension in my posture, because he laid a hand on my shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze of reassurance. Startled, I glanced over at him, but he kept his gaze resolutely on the march of tribal warriors below us.

The agents around us didn't miss our exchange – I felt the sudden stiffening of the one behind me – but we had bigger things to worry about than Loki's reformation into a thoughtful being.

Finally, the line of giants petered out. A single squad of ten giants remained behind to guard the portal as the rest lumbered towards the tree line. We continued waiting for a good while, until a collection of roars ripped through the afternoon.

The intercom crackled to life. "_We have contact! November, drop now!"_

That was our cue.

Loki and I were the last ones out. I looked back at him before my jump – he nodded, and blue spread through his veins like blood in water.

I squared my shoulders and leapt.

SHIELD did not equip us with parachutes for this jump; the fire demons could easily burn a hole through the fabric before we even landed. Instead, we got jet packs to allow us to control our momentum.

The guard squad had spotted us.

One demon was already down, having been caught unawares by a bullet to his head. These bullets were new, too; Much like a hollow-point bullet, they expanded and shattered when they hit their target, but they also released a lethal burst of liquid nitrogen. The demon was out like a light.

The remaining nine were not so easy.

When I hit the ground, three agents were already goners, having not been fast enough to dodge jets of flame. Remembering my own injury from several weeks ago, I used my telekinesis like a force field, putting light shields between any fire and myself. I shucked the pack (it was only extra weight on the ground) and went straight for the two warriors hanging back around the portal, ducking under a jet of flame and firing a bullet. With a swift flick of my wrist upwards, the bullet punched through the chin of one, letting the nitrogen explode in his head.

There wasn't time to double-check the kill. I propelled myself up over another burst of fire using my telekinesis and shot at the other demon twice in mid-air. One bullet went completely wide before I could catch it, but the other one got him in the neck. It bubbled and froze over instantaneously; a violent gesture with my wrist had the remainder of the shards explode outwards, decapitating him.

Shielding myself from the gory remnants of fire demons, I almost missed another demon coming at me. Winded by my landing, I rolled to the side, but not fast enough. A burst of flame singed my back, and I cried out.

Loki, drawn by the sound, appeared from god-knows-where, and put a bullet into my attacker. I clambered to my feet, cataloguing the agony in my back and filing it away. _Breathe through it_. I wasn't successful in ensuring that the pain didn't dull my senses, because Loki's fierce, battle-hungry expression suddenly morphed into one of horror.

I was shoved to the ground before I fully registered what that expression meant. The first thing I saw upon rolling back to my feet a second later was the fire demon barrelling straight at us. I shot him, ensuring that my bullet met its mark. As the demon collapsed, I looked wildly around for Loki.

I almost wished I hadn't.

He was pinned to the ground by an iron javelin through his right shoulder. He managed to pull it out as I rushed over to him, but he was losing a great deal of blood very quickly. A quick survey of my surroundings showed that only one fire demon was left, and he was being despatched by the two remaining SHIELD agents – who also didn't look altogether steady on their feet.

Loki and I were supposed to head into the portal together, but he wasn't in any shape to go anywhere. Already giddy with blood loss, Loki tried to push himself up, but I held him down. Incensed, he tried to snap at me, but I beat him to it.

I knocked him out with a quick blow to the head (not hard enough to give him a concussion, but with enough force to make him pass out – the blood loss was already doing that, anyways) and grabbed the portal destroyer from his belt. The two agents were suddenly by my side, looking grave.

"He needs medical attention. You with the burn, get him to it." The agent I'd gestured to nodded and handed his extra cartridges over to me. I handed them right back to the other agent. "And you, take these and guard the portal. You should have a pretty good shot from the higher ground."

They didn't even ask what I was going to do. We all knew it.

I checked my belt for the remote detonator right before I stepped through the portal, but with a sort of calm resignation, I saw that the fire that had grazed my back had melted away half of it.

At least I wouldn't be around for Loki to kill me for this. I only can die once. We all only die once in a lifetime. Aren't we all on loan to the world, anyways? The most important thing is to make full use of the time we've borrowed. I thought about my family and my country; I hoped that SHIELD would call them after my death and tell them exactly what I had died for. I wanted them to be proud of me, but most of all, I wanted them to know how much I loved them, even though I hadn't been around to show them that I did.

Taking a deep breath (still working through the pain in my back), I raised my psychic shield and stepped through the whirling mass of light.

It was kind of like moving from one room into another, but there was like a galaxy of stars and space in between. In the time it took for me to step fully into Muspelheimr, I felt myself age backwards and forwards about ten times; felt the songs of a million universes thrumming in my bones. It took all the concentration that I had to keep my shield steady around me. When I broke through to the other side of the portal, I would only have about a split second of surprise on my side. I had to make that second count.

The step was complete, and I felt my body whoosh back together into that specific time and space. There was none of the nausea that characterised travel by Odin's methods; just a vague tingling under my skin.

* * *

I was in a cave, with five fire demons tinkering around the platform I'd arrived onto. I managed to take out the two in front of me immediately upon materialising; I caught another in the back as he ran for help, but one more managed to escape. That left me with one to handle. He sidled cautiously around a workstation; I took the opportunity to activate the portal destroyer, holding it steady in one hand as I trained my revolver on him. Noting that he was weaponless, I realised that the only reason why he wasn't launching fire at me was because he was afraid to damage the portal. Without preamble, I shot him in the chest as he reached for an iron spear in a bracket against the wall.

A glance down at the device told me that it was only forty per cent done with destabilising the portal. I was gripped by an irrational desire to just press the red manual destruct button before more fire demons came, but I quashed that feeling down. Destroying it early meant unchecked destruction. I had to get the job done right.

A squad of guards came clattering into sight, armed with iron crossbows. I managed to get one with the remaining three bullets in my revolver – unlike Clint, I wasn't good enough of a shot to have each of my bullets fly true without my abilities, and my other hand was currently holding the device. Tossing the useless gun aside, I got my shield up just in time. _Sixty-five per cent_.

Fuelled by desperation and anchored with the determination to finish the mission, I'd managed to create the sort of corporeal shield that Loki had been pushing me towards. For the next three minutes (that felt like about three hundred years), I kept it strong, withstanding a barrage of arrows from increasingly frustrated fire demons. _Ninety per cent_.

Still, I didn't have an inexhaustible reservoir of energy. My shield began to waver, letting in shots, but slowly, like a pin pushing through a rubber band. They were slow enough that I could move to dodge them as they came, but once they realised that they could get through, the shots came faster.

The arrow through my side brought me to my knees. _Ninety-five per cent_.

They began closing in. One last surge of strength blocked an arrow to my neck. _Ninety-eight per cent_.

Another arrow seared through my chest, narrowly missing my heart as I moved at the last moment. _Ninety-nine per cent_.

My shields were gone. I watched the arrow that would kill me slice through the distance between us. _One hundred per cent_.

With the greatest effort that I had ever made, I put my thumb over the red button and pressed down.

For an awful moment, nothing happened.

Then heat, bright and welcoming, washed over me, and I knew no more.

* * *

**A/N: THIS IS NOT THE END. There's another chapter left. Don't panic. I wasn't sure if it was better for me to write the last chapter before posting this one and the last one up at one shot, but I figured that perhaps you guys would want to read this as quickly as possible, and I don't want to keep you waiting (hello, freudianprincess!). **

**Don't hate me for this, please; it had to happen. Review! **


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC. All of this is still unbeta'd, so read at your own risk. **

* * *

_I was five again, picnicking with my mother in our garden. _Sayang_, she whispered, leaning over to brush a lock of hair behind my ears, _you are going to grow up to be a very special person. But remember, no matter what you do, Mama will always love you. Mama and Papa and Grandmama and little Ian. We will always be here.

In the garden?_ I asked naively, sipping orange juice out of a gold-edged teacup as delicately as a five-year-old could. A fragment of dream-me frowned at the anachronism; Ian wasn't born yet, so why was Mama talking about him? But that question fizzled out of importance as Mama laughed. I loved her laugh. _

_She gazed at me affectionately. _In the garden, in your head, and in here._ She placed her hand over my heart, but then she began to fade, dispersing into the sunlight. The last bit of her to go was her hand, which left a spot of warmth in my chest. _

_A slight breeze rustled through the leaves of the saga tree I leaned against, plucking bright red saga seeds from their pods and gently raining them down on me. Catching a seed in my palm, I realised that it wasn't a five-year-old's palm, any more; I was in my SHIELD catsuit, battle- and blood- stained. The saga seed fell to the ground, unheeded, as panic bubbled in my throat._

Calm down, young one.

_I whipped my head around to see a woman, clad in a cloak of falcon feathers, lounging lazily on my porch swing. She looked like she was expecting my confusion, because she smiled at me reassuringly and got up. The sun glinted off a bright gold torc that she wore around her neck, and I felt that I should have known her, just for that necklace. _

_She took my hands in hers. _I am Freyja, Goddess of love, war, and death. You are in Fólkvangr, the field of the host.

But we're in my garden. My home is right there.

_Her smile turned mysterious. _All gardens know each other.

_A thought hit me, as bright and hot as lightning. _Am I dead, then?

_Her reply was kind. _I'm afraid so, young one. You're here because I receive half of all those who perish in battle; the other half is claimed by Odin. You may stay with me in my field, before passing on to the great beyond. Alternatively, you may leave and join the einherjar. In her wisdom, the Lady Skuld, both Norn and Valkyrie, has offered you the burden of choice. _For the first time, I noticed a young woman, clad in black and silver armour, standing by my front gate. She did not move to acknowledge me, but I knew that she was observing the proceedings very closely. _

If I go with the Lady Skuld, will I be brought to Odin's halls?

_Freyja nodded. _

I will become a warrior of Asgard?

_Freyja nodded once more. _

_The concept of becoming immortal was both appealing and dreadful. On the one hand, I could return to my family, resume life, and, possibly, be with Loki – if he still wanted me. On the other, I would have to watch my friends and family grow old and pass on without me. As I mused on this, part of me registered that my heart was still radiating a pleasant heat from my mother's touch._

_Freyja and Skuld waited in the echo of my family's garden, watching me weigh the scales of my mortality with old, knowing eyes._

* * *

At first, I thought that I must be in the heart of a star. Gold was everywhere; palely translucent in the air, bright and brassy in vague shapes that solidified into furniture upon a second look, dark and burnished in the silk sheets that tangled in my legs.

Blinking rapidly, I tried to crank myself upright, but a hand clamped gently over my wrist halted my struggles. Startled, I tried to snatch my arm away, but I was too weak to break free of even that loose hold.

"Kate."

I froze. Was that my name? With mounting horror, I realised that my memories were blurred; melding like slurry into each other. Certain things stood out – a family laughing over a dinner, a dance of bullets in the air, a redheaded woman with cool eyes, and a man – he was blue, and he was pale, and he meant something to me.

I turned slowly to meet green eyes.

The man from the chaos of my memories was dishevelled and exhausted. He was now pale, but purple bruises ringed his tired eyes and his skin was so pallid that blue veins were clearly visible. A fleeting, agonised look crossed his face when he realised that I didn't remember who he was.

"Kate," he repeated, voice breaking. "I have failed you. I am so, so sorry; I should have protected you better, I should have been faster, I should have never let you go in the first place. _Kate_." And then he bent over my hand, hiding his face as his shoulders shook.

Overcome by his distress, I placed my other hand on his hair, trying to soothe him, but not really knowing what I was doing. To comfort him felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"It's fine," I tried to say, but my voice came out hoarse and scratchy. I tried again. "Don't – don't be upset. I'm ok."

He raised his head, but kept him eyes shut as he fought to control his feelings. I let my hand slip down to cup his face. _Too thin_. I ran my thumb against the knife of his cheekbone, catching a tear that escaped from one traitorous eyelid. Unconsciously, my hand slid further down his neck, and a niggling concern led me to ghost my fingers under the open collar of his too-large shirt, reaching towards his right shoulder.

My fingertips brushed fabric bandages. The man inhaled sharply.

_An iron javelin in his shoulder. Blood on the ground, blood on his shirt, blood bubbling from an open wound like lava from a volcano. _

A volcano. Guns. A portal. An explosion.

"Loki," I gasped.

His eyes snapped open.

"The disorientation will last for a couple of days. You will get all your memories back in time." This second voice was female; low, musical, and belonging to an older woman with silver hair coiled into a mass of braids atop her head. She stopped at the foot of my bed and swept the man – _Loki_, I reiterated to myself – a curtsey. "Your Highness, you should be resting in your quarters. I believe that I gave you my word that I would inform you when the Lady Katharine woke."

Loki seemed not to hear her. "Kate," he began, lowly and rushed, "I am so sorry that this is your lot now. I know that becoming immortal was never your intention. I am sorry that I have condemned you to a life of battle and war when that was the last thing that you wanted. Forgive me, Kate." He was desperate, now, clutching at my hand. "_Forgive me_."

Fragments of a dream flashed through my mind – serenity in the heart of an inferno, a garden in a web of gardens, an old, gnarled tree dotted with red seeds, and two women, arms outstretched.

_I chose_.

"Loki," I breathed, savouring his name in my mouth, "I chose this. I chose to do what I did, and I chose to come back. Whatever happened was _not your fault_." I paused, struck by a wave of remembrance. "I can live with battle, as long as I can live in a life with love in it; I had so much to return to."

Neither of us noticed Eir leave in a silent swish of green silk, half touched, half uncomfortable with the level of emotion in the room.

I thought of Nat, constantly looking out for me despite her personal disapproval of some of my riskier manoeuvres. Darcy, going through my clothes when I first moved into Stark Tower and tossing everything she thought was too boring. Stark, whose obnoxious façade hid a genuine concern for the people around him. Pepper, exacting, but thoughtful. "I have friends."

Images of my brother playing with his aeroplanes, my mother gently rocking me to sleep after a nightmare, my father teaching me how to drive, my grandmother's hand over mine as she guided me in chopping up pineapples for _achar_. _Kisses goodnight and goodbye hugs._ "I have my family."

I kept my eyes steady on him as more memories flooded through – Loki, the wild animal in a trap; Loki, patient but demanding; Loki, gentle and fierce. Loki. _Loki_. I leaned my forehead against his. "I have you."

Loki exhaled, his breath fanning across my face. I closed my eyes. Nothing else needed to be said.

* * *

I was moved into apartments near Loki's as we both recovered from the aftermath of our skirmish. There were scars on my torso from the fire demons' arrows, but the burn on my back healed clean. Loki's shoulder, while still tender, was almost completely knitted back together. He'd taken to supporting me if I needed to amble around to get somewhere (like the bathroom), because the transformation from mortal to Aesir was still happening, and my body was slowly transforming into a more durable version of itself. The entire process took about three weeks to complete, leaving me an aching, winded mess in the interim. It kind of felt like I'd finished running a 30 kilometre marathon at a dead sprint, but without the copious amounts of sweat involved.

Thor came to visit on the third day after I'd regained consciousness, after I'd badgered any person who came near me to tell me what had happened to the rest of SHIELD's forces. From what I'd gathered, I'd been brought to the palace a day after my death by a host of Valkyries, and had been in a healing coma for a week. There was a _lot _of stuff to catch up on.

In sum, the casualties were not as heavy as they could have been, he reported. Thirty of the two hundred SHIELD agents mobilised that day were dead. Without Banner, that number would have probably been much higher. According to Thor, the Hulk had cut a swathe through the entire left flank of the advancing fire demon army, scattering their battle formation and taking out any giant that was dumb enough to get in his way. Stark and Clint had picked them off from above, while Rogers led the infantry charge, Nat by his side. Thor had engaged in a bloody, extended fight with Surtr himself, eventually pinning him to the ground with Mjolnir. The remainder of his warriors surrendered after his defeat, throwing their weapons down bitterly. They were transported away (to a holding prison on an Asgardian outpost, Thor said) promptly via Odin's magic.

Apart from a couple of broken ribs, burns, and a wealth of bruises and cuts, the Avengers had escaped largely unscathed.

That evening, I bullied Loki into taking me out onto the grounds, where I floated thirty origami flowers (after Thor had left, I'd spent two hours furiously folding paper that I had demanded from a passing servant) into the river that led out of the palace and into the ocean that spilled over the edge of the world. He made a grumpy comment about me littering, but I hushed him. I hadn't been able to travel back to Midgard for the funeral service for these thirty agents. I didn't know them, but that didn't make their lives any less precious. They had died in service to their world, as I had. They deserved my respect.

As the flowers approached a grill in the wall that marked the boundaries of the palace, Loki made a wordless gesture, and they burst into flames, one by one. In silence, we watched each blossom of light bob along the current, the paper unconsumed by the flames. I wasn't surprised that he'd gotten his magic back. Taking a mortal wound for a mortal certainly counted as redemption. My throat tightened at the thought of mortality.

In the afternoon, I'd asked Thor if my parents knew if I was alive.

SHIELD had done as I'd hoped.

The agent that I'd ordered to get Loki medical attention, Agent Torres, had found that his burden was suddenly no longer there, having been spirited into the heavens by a golden flash of light. He still proceeded to where the quinjet hovered, and once on board, radioed Hill to report that the portal's guard squad had been neutralised, Agent Goldberg was securing the site, and Agent Lee was shutting the portal down from the other side. With some measure of regret, he informed her that since the remote detonator had been destroyed during the skirmish with the guard squad, it was likely to be a one-way trip.

This impression was confirmed when Agent Goldberg radioed back, jubilantly proclaiming that the portal had been closed.

When SHIELD was processing the administrative work in informing the families of the thirty deceased agents of their loss, Agents Goldberg and Torres insisted that they break protocol and let my family know that I had died so that the mission would succeed. The last that Thor heard before coming back to Asgard was that Fury was en route to Singapore to break the news to my family himself. He hadn't known that I'd been brought back as an einherjar until his arrival that morning.

I had to go back.

After the last flower had drifted out of sight, Loki wrapped his good arm around my shoulders and herded me back in the palace. Like a sleepwalker in a dream, I let him lead me through a maze of corridors until we arrived at a set of double doors, panelled in gold. I didn't need to be told that these were the king's and queen's apartments.

The guards on either side almost made to stop us from going through, but a glance from Loki quelled them. They pushed the doors open for us, and Loki swept us through.

Odin and Frigga (for it had to be them) were deep in conversation, but while they abruptly ceased their discussion, they didn't look surprised at our visit.

Loki let go of me to perform a stilted little half-bow; I was still too achy to curtsey, so I just spasmed a bow as well and hoped that it worked just as well. Odin raised an eyebrow, but Frigga just smiled kindly.

"Your Majesty. Mother." Loki's address to his father was still significantly cooler than his greeting to his mother. I resolved to talk to him about that later; the guy had teleported his son away from the heat of battle to get him proper medical attention ASAP. Probable assholery aside, that was a pretty good thing that he did.

Loki was still talking. "The Lady Katharine's family believes that she perished in the battle of the volcano. They are unaware that she has been returned to us as a warrior of Asgard. While she understands that her place is now within these halls, she begs an indulgence from the crown to allow her access to Midgard. The reconstruction of the Bifrost will be complete in several months, but she humbly requests that she will be allowed to see her family as soon as the transformation process is complete and she can travel safely via Your Majesty's means."

Odin's face was a study of polite interest carved in stone. "Does Lady Katharine have anything to add?"

Gathering up all my strength and boldness, I looked Odin All-father square in the face. "I chose to come back for my loved ones, your Majesty. I am eager to see them and shorten their time of mourning, because they think that I am dead. No parents should have to live to know the death of their child. I would not inflict that suffering on them a moment longer than necessary."

Both Loki and I had been speaking to Odin, but it was Frigga who laid a hand on her husband's arm, exchanging a charged look with him. Beside me, Loki's posture tightened. I'd forgotten that he'd been thought dead after his fall into the Void.

Just as I was beginning to sway on my feet, Odin rapped his spear against the ground. "So be it. Loki, you will accompany the Lady Katharine on her return to Midgard." Loki caught me as my legs failed. Odin's expression softened, and Frigga stood to help Loki adjust my hold over his shoulders. "Take as long as you require."

* * *

A week and a half later, Loki and I were standing on the patio of my home, Odin having beamed us down into the driveway. We must have made quite a bit of a commotion, because I could hear footsteps thundering through the house as all of its occupants raced towards the front door to see what had landed on their doorstep. Loki was dressed in his full Asgardian glory, sans the helmet (I'd warned him that it was overkill), and I was in a silk gown embroidered with dragons – very princessy. I could get used to dresses like these. Words fail to describe how comfortable they are.

Loki fidgeted nervously as the hopeful, excited chatter of my family got louder. I reached out and took his hand; after a moment's surprise, he curled his fingers around mine.

The door opened, and Mama, the first person I saw, burst into a flood of tears. Suddenly overwhelmed by a cacophony of shrieks, wails, and prayers of thanksgiving, I tightened my grip on Loki's hand while burying my face into my grandmother's shoulder as my parents joined in the group hug.

I was with the people I loved. I was home.

* * *

**A/N: IT'S DONE! There'll be a sequel coming up, so stay tuned for that. Thank you guys for being so supportive; I really appreciate your interest in Kate. Let me know what you think about the end of this story/the story as a whole!**

**_Sayang_: Malay for _love_ (both noun and verb). Like in Greek, there are different words for the different types of love in Malay. Sayang is purer, familial love; non-romantic in nature. **

**_Achar_: A cold dish of pickled vegetables and pineapples. **

**From what I dug up during the course of my research, Skuld is both a Valkyrie and a Norn. I thought that she would be the most appropriate Valkyrie to bring Kate to Asgard; she would, by virtue of her authority as a Norn, be able to grant Kate a choice as to whether she wanted to be immortal or not, and her name, _Skuld_, means _shield_. **


	14. Postscript

**A/N: The sequel to this story, _In Dreams_, is up and has been up for a while. It's less jocular than _On Loan_, but Kate and Loki are dealing with some pretty heavy stuff, so. Yeah.**

**Pop by if you're interested!**


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